


Different Kind of Strings

by belldebubs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Artist Sam Winchester, Castiel Plays the Piano, Character Death, Dean Plays Guitar, M/M, Minor Character Death, Suicidal John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 57,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belldebubs/pseuds/belldebubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Near the end of their senior year, Cas has become a renowned pianist, and Dean is the lead guitarist and singer in an up and coming rock band in their town. Both have bright futures ahead of them in completely separate directions. After a chance meeting and a little help, they come to realize how important they are to each other; consequently throwing their carefully planned futures out the window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How They Met

Castiel sat in his usual seat on the bus, looking up occasionally when someone new came on or when someone left. Nearly all were people that Castiel recognized; though he knew none of their names. They were just familiar faces to him. He lowered his head to look back down at his sheet music.

The bus started moving, but the driver suddenly slammed on the brakes, making everyone lurch forward, and opened the doors once more. “You’re lucky I saw you, kid,” said the driver in his gruff voice as someone leapt through the entryway onto the bus.

The so-called kid wore a weathered, dark-colored leather jacket that looked a bit too big for him; one hand in a pocket while he used the other to rub at the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m not used to riding the bus system yet,” he chuckled.

“Well, find yourself a seat and sit down. We’ve gotta get goin'."

The tall boy sighed, moving towards the back of the bus as he looked for a seat. Out of the few options left, he chose the adjacent aisle seat next to Castiel, thumping down with a whoosh of air as he tried to get comfortable. Castiel ignored him, focusing once again on the sheet music in front of him.

“Whoa, is that sheet music? What instrument is it for?” the newcomer asked, sounding excited.

Castiel looked up with wide eyes, taken aback at the stranger’s curiosity. From his looks, Castiel didn’t peg him for the type of guy to like classical music. 

The guy was fiddling with the headphones attached to his iPod, looking down at the papers strewn across Castiel’s lap, trying to read it with his brow furrowed. When Castiel didn’t answer, the boy looked up, a shock running through Castiel's body when he became the center of attention in those bottle green eyes of the stranger next to him. He could feel himself flush as he struggled to reply.

“Uh… It-it’s for the piano. I’m helping a friend with her solo,” he stuttered out.

The boy nodded. “That’s cool. My parents tried to get me to do that. Didn’t work too well, and now I play the guitar. Sometimes I wish I could play though…” With that he plugged one of his earbuds in, letting the other dangle. He reached a hand out across himself. “I’m Dean, by the way.”

Castiel eyed his hand before taking it. “I’m Castiel, nice to meet you.”

Dean was staring into Castiel’s caribbean eyes. He felt a jolt run through his body when their hands finally made contact, and his cheeks started to heat. “Castiel, huh? That’s an interesting name.” They were still holding hands. Clearing his throat, Dean dropped Castiel’s hand and plugged in the other earbud, getting lost in the raucous sounds of Kansas and other old rock legends, leaving the other boy to his own musings.

Before long, he had closed his eyes and started drumming along to the songs on his knees. He even began humming at one point. The guy by the window poked him. Dean opened his eyes, staring back at Castiel. That was such a strange name, but from what he could see, it fit the guy, if a bit of a mouthful.

Dean could see Castiel’s mouth moving, but the sound didn’t reach him over the noise of Styx. He yanked out an earbud. “Sorry, what Cas?”

They boy tilted his head in confusion. “Cas?”

“Yeah, why not? I think it suits you,” Dean said with a sly grin.

Cas looked away, feeling himself flush once more. What was going on with him? He shook his head, trying to clear it of this confusing situation.

“Um,” Cas was finding it hard to concentrate on words with Dean staring at him. Did he have to stare so _intently? _“My stop is coming up, just so you know.”__

__Dean nodded. “Yeah, okay.”_ _

__“And you were singing.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__Cas smiled. “Yeah, you were singing out loud. I liked it, it sounded nice. What song was it?”_ _

__Dean blinked, thinking. “ Lonely Is the Night. Makes me think of my kid brother. He’s not too keen on my type of music.” He looked down with a small smirk on his face. __

____“Well I think you have pretty good taste.”_ _ _ _

____Dean snapped his head up. “Wait, you--”_ _ _ _

____“Listen to rock? Yeah, I do,” he chuckled. “It’s a nice break from all things classic every now and then,” he said, holding up his sheet music._ _ _ _

____“Huh.”_ _ _ _

____They sat and stared at each other, not knowing what to say next. They began to notice other things about each other; Cas noticed the many freckles splattered across the bridge of Dean’s nose, and his hair was full and looked soft to the touch. Dean noticed how Cas’ mouth hitched to one side when he smiled, and the whiteness of his teeth. Cas had a nice smile. Neither of them could look away from the other, until Dean shifted his gaze to look out the window._ _ _ _

____“Hey, which stop is yours again?”_ _ _ _

____Cas blinked, the hypnotizing effect of Dean’s eyes momentarily gone. He looked out the window. “Oh! I guess I missed it…” he said, feeling a blush on his skin. Dean had been the reason he had missed his stop. Those eyes were too distracting._ _ _ _

____Dean laughed, his smiling making the corner of his eyes crinkle. It was nice laugh, a soft sort of chuckle that took over his body, making him bend forward. The sound of it warmed Cas from the inside and he couldn’t help smiling back._ _ _ _

____“Guess I’ll just have to take the next one.”_ _ _ _

____Dean looked over at Castiel, his elbow on his knee and chin resting on the heel of his hand. “Yeah, I guess you’ll have to.” His smile was hidden by his hand, but Cas could see it in his eyes. Those eyes..._ _ _ _

____The next stop came far too soon, for both of the boys. The bus stopped with a jolt, snapping Cas out of the pull Dean seemed to have on him. “Oh,” he muttered. He hastily stacked his sheet music together and stood, tugging his trench coat around himself and tucking the music under his arm._ _ _ _

____Dean stood as well, still looking at Cas. He reached out toward Cas, which gave him a mini panic attack. Dean’s hands grabbed around Cas’ tie, straightening and tightening it. “Can’t have you looking shabby when you perform,” Dean muttered, his gaze fixed on the tie in concentration. Cas felt the heat in his cheeks reaching an all new temperature as Dean smoothed his hand down the length of the tie. Satisfied, he stepped away with a grin and light in his eyes. “Break a leg, Cas,” he said with a wink._ _ _ _

____“Th-thanks Dean,” Cas said as he squeezed past him in the tight quarters. “Maybe I’ll see you again?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, that’d be nice.”_ _ _ _

____Cas turned and walked toward the exit, hiding his smile from Dean. “In that case, see you then.” With that he landed on the curb of the street, the last image in his head that of Dean holding up a hand in farewell._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing anything like this, and I would love to hear whatever feedback you may have! Also, I'm not the best at this whole 'tagging' thing, so I apologize in advance for anything that may come up. I ask politely now that you be patient with/work with/let me know if there's something that I missed, because it's really not my intent to hurt anyone unnecessarily. I'll do my best to warn about possible triggers at the beginning of a chapter as well, but again, I'm not the best at figuring out what could count as a trigger for some people. But I hope you like the story, and please give me feedback, and thank you for reading!


	2. Patience is a Virtue

Cas laid back in the grass of the meadow and closed his eyes, his hands behind his head as a deep rooted sigh escaped his body. It was a beautiful day, one of the last warm days before the autumn chill officially set in. Though he had to practice, it couldn't hurt to spend some time outside.

After a moment, he twisted his body so he was on his stomach and stared at the tall grass that surrounded him. The grass wasn't the only thing out there; there were various small flowers that added color, but the grass was what Castiel's gaze was intent on. The grass was green.

He picked at the grass in front of him, pulling at a strand and studying it carefully. It was nowhere the same kind of green as that of Dean's eyes--well, at least as green as Cas remembered them being--but this blade of grass was the closest he could get. It had been four days since they had met on the bus. Neither of the boys had thought to ask for the other's number or a way to contact them; they had both been too distracted by the other to think that far.

Castiel was currently cursing himself under his breath as he twirled the blade of grass in his fingers. He felt that Dean and himself had shared a strong connection, and he wanted to get to know him better. But because he didn't ask for his number, he wasn't going to see him, or his amazing eyes, again. He'd had his chance and he completely blew it. What were the odds they'd ever run into each other again?

"Cas!" Called a gentle voice. "Castiel, you come back now! It's nearly sundown and you still have to play for me boy!"

Castiel's dark hair got caught in the stream of air as he huffed, still staring intently at the blade of grass in his fingers. After lifting himself to a kneel, he called back; "Coming Missy! I'll be there in a minute!" After hearing the door close behind her, he stood, the grass still in his hand. He lifted it to his face, and gave a resigned sigh. Dropping the blade, he made his way back to the house with his head down, leaving everything he knew to be green in the field.

.............................

"Dean, you almost done?" Sam poked his head around the corner, peering at Dean in the garage. "It's about time for dinner."

"Yeah, just gimme a minute." He put down his tools and reached for the rag by his side, wiping the grease off his hands as best he could. He slowed his movements though, when he realized the color of the rag: Blue. It made him think of that boy he met on the bus... what was his name again? Castiel, that's right. Dean still thought it was weird name.

Not as bad as his friend Lucifer though. That wasn't his true name, but it was what he preferred everyone to call him, though Dean never will understand why. Why would you want people to call you the devil?

"Boy, time to get your sorry hide in here!"

Dean sighed, still looking at the rag in his limp hands. With the rag being as dirty as it was, it was nowhere near as vibrant as Castiel's eyes. Though Dean couldn't remember the exact color, he knew that for sure; nothing could be as bright as those eyes. But if he scrunched the rag together, mixing the black with the blue, it made him think of the dark fleck's in the boy's eyes, which just made him smile. He slowly stood, placing the rag gently down next to his tools as he made his way inside to wash his hands.

That whole time sitting next to him on the bus four days ago, Dean couldn't help but think that he'd seen this guy before. He didn't know him, but he recognized him. It's a bit hard to forget someone in a tan trench coat. Really, who wears those?

Dean scrubbed his hands hard as he thought of where he had seen Cas before. He furrowed his brow. No...that couldn't be right, could it? Did they really go to the same school? If that were the case, Dean would seek him out once the break was over. He had really liked the guy, though he couldn't exactly place why. There was just...something _different_ about him, and Dean wanted to figure out what it was.

He made his way to the table in the spaced-out kitchen. Sam looked up from his book as Dean sat down. "Sheesh, took you long enough, jerk," he said, his hazelnut eyes flashing as he smirked at his older brother.

"Shut up, bitch," Dean replied in a huff of air, not even glancing at him.

Sam marked his place and closed his book, setting it aside. "What were you working on in there anyways? It's too cold to ride the bike, and the Impala had to be taken into the shop."

"Benny was having issues with his speaker and hookup, so I said I'd take a look. Think I got it fixed by now."

"Sam, no books on the table," said a gruff voice as he sat at the end of the table.

Sam moved the book to the floor. "Sorry Bobby."

The old man scratched at his beard. "'Bout time you showed up Dean. The food was gettin' cold." He reached for the dishes in front of him, passing them along to Sam when he was finished.

"What about dad? Isn't he home?"

"He called ahead and said he'd be late. Between job and house huntin', he's a bit swamped." Bobby put the dishes down after seeing the flicker of disappointment cross over Dean's face. "He'll come home soon," Bobby assured him. "And when he does, we'll have a plate ready for him."

Dean nodded, playing with the mashed potatoes on his plate. Ever since his mother had her accident when Dean was young, it had just been him, his dad, and Sammy. They would all go and visit her together sometimes, making the family whole again, but nothing about her condition had changed in the space of 15 years. The memories in the old house had been too painful to remain there, and they couldn't afford to keep it and add the cost of her living in a home. The boys and their father never seemed to be able to stay in one place. Their dad just couldn't hold onto a job for long, probably because he'd sneak off during work hours to see his wife.

Currently, they were crashing at Bobby Singer's, who had known their father for a long while and had become a type of uncle to the two boys. John, their dad, was doing his best to find work of any kind, but was still having trouble getting any of them to stick.

They had first arrived in the middle of the summer, and Bobby was letting them stay for the remainder of the school year. He didn't like that the boys had had to change schools so much. If he could, he would just adopt the two and let them finish their schooling while their dad sorted everything out. But John was adamant when it came to leaving his sons. Bobby could see it wasn't doing anyone any good, but no matter how hard he tried, Bobby couldn't get John to admit it.

Dean, though the last to show up, was the first to be done with his meal. He stood up, his chair screeching in protest. "Thanks for the food, Bobby." He hurriedly gathered his dishes together, seeming not to notice them clanking against each other.

"Well what's got your boxers in a twist?" Bobby asked as he leaned onto the table, his gaze on Dean's face.

Dean looked up, his green eyes wide. "What? Oh, uh...nothing." He made his way over to the sink. "Just... I'm not that hungry and remembered that I have some homework to do before I can practice." With that, he rushed up the stairs to his room. He heard Sam say; "You know something's wrong when he doesn't eat," as he reached the end of the hall. Typical Sam.

It was only once the door was closed behind him that Dean felt like he could breathe. If Sammy and Bobby thought he was upset because of his dad not being home, Dean was fine with that. It did bother him, but it happened. A lot. To be honest, John had sometimes been gone for days at a time before he came back. Dean was just used to it at this point.

Dean flopped on his bed, digging around in his backpack, looking for any homework he might have to do. The real reason he had left dinner early was because he just couldn't keep still. At some point during the meal, the thought of Cas came back to his mind, and it wouldn't leave him alone. He didn't want to wait out one more day; he thought he might die of impatience.

Out of everyone that Dean knew, none of them came close to having the same presence as Castiel. He seemed to radiate a sense of calm while at the same time looking like a lost goofball. He made Dean extremely curious, and had actually inspired him to start writing some original songs again.

Dean huffed in frustration, throwing his homework to the side. "Dammit, Cas," he cursed. He couldn't concentrate, the blue eyed boy filling his mind. He put on his glasses from the nightstand as he reached for his guitar. Muttering under his breath, he took out his notebook, the one he used for only music, and opened it to the latest page. It had a series of chords and lyrics written on it, the result of Dean's efforts at writing a new song.

The songs he usually wrote were fast and heavy, with a quiet tune making a rare appearance, mainly for his mother. But this one was different. It was soft, and it flowed consistently, leaving no empty space between, almost like a mix between the two different types that he normally wrote. Dean might even go so far as to say it was a haunting melody. The only reason that he was writing this was because of the effect that Castiel had on him. He couldn't wait until school started again.

.................................

Castiel finished the song he was performing, letting the notes ring out into the quiet before he took his foot off the pedal and swiveled on the bench, facing his meager audience. Missouri whooped as she clapped her hands. "Hoo-wee boy! I swear, every time you play you just get better and better."

"That's kinda the point of practicing, Missy," Gabriel, Cas' older brother, teased. He had shown up before Castiel had the chance to get back inside the house. Though he did show up fairly often, his visit was unexpected. After getting a smack of the arm from Missouri, he turned back to Cas with a grin and a wink. "Seriously though, good job lil' bro."

"Thanks Gabe," Cas replied as he looked down. The attention that came with performing had always bothered him a bit. He didn't mind if he had people listening to him, it was all the cheering and clapping afterwards. He would get so lost into what he was playing that he kind of lost track of where he was. A crowd cheering at him seemed to suddenly appear in front of him, every single time, and it always threw him off guard. Why were they even clapping for him? It didn't make sense. He wished that people would just be silent and let the music wash over them. He wanted them to appreciate it as much as he did.

"Well boys," Missouri said, standing up. "I made y'all some lemonade in the kitchen, and there's some cookies too. Cas, I expect you to behave while your brother's here, and for God’s sake Gabriel, get your filthy feet off my coffee table!" She knocked Gabe's feet off the table as she went past, making her way up the stairs as he retaliated with a roll of his eyes behind her back.

The brothers had made their way to the porch swing on the deck, sipping at their drinks and swaying softly as they watched the sunset.

Cas was fiddling with his glass. "Gabe..."

Gabriel looked over at him, wondering why he didn't finish. "Yeah, Cassie?"

Castiel couldn't seem to be able to look his brother in the eye. "What would you do....if I told you I'm bi?"

Gabriel just laughed. Not in a harsh way; it was a soft and gentle laugh. "Well kiddo, I wouldn't think any different of you, if that's what you're worried about. Everybody's free to make their own choices. Besides, you already know that I'm gay." He took a long pull from his drink, thinking. He frowned, his brows coming together. "Tell me what you think about girls," he said, in no way demanding.

"What?" Cas didn't understand what his brother was trying to say.

"You heard me. Tell me about... Hannah. What do you think of her? Or Anna, or Meg... whoever. Just tell me what you think about them."

Cas fidgeted, a bit uncomfortable. "Um, well... Hannah's nice..."

"Go on," Gabe encouraged, grabbing a cookie as the sky changed to a bright orange.

"She's pretty... Has a nice smile, is friendly... That's kind of all I can think of to summarize her."

"Okay, good. Now what about the other girls?"

Cas shrugged, staring out at the sky as the clouds turned pink and the sky darkened to a purple. "I dunno... I guess I would use the same things. I don't feel... attracted to any of them... they're all just good friends to me."

Gabe chuckled. "Okay, now tell me about the guys in your life."

Castiel's thoughts immediately went to images of the boy from the bus. "Um..." he said, a blush overtaking him at the picture of Dean's bottle-green eyes. He couldn't seem to speak for a minute.

Gabriel laughed at his brothers' expression, his head tilting back. "Lil' bro, I think this means that you take after me." He smirked as he took another sip from his drink. "So, tell me about him. Who is this guy, and what's he like?"

"Well, we met on the bus. He has brown-ish hair, some freckles, he had a nice smile and wore a leather jacket. But Gabe... Oh my God his _eyes_... They're the brightest green I've ever seen..." Castiel's voice trailed off as he thought about those eyes.

A moment of silence passed between the two of them. They sat and watched the sun finally set behind the rolling hills, being chased by an ever darkening sky, the stars just starting to make their appearance.

"Cassie, is this guy's name by chance, oh I don't know... Dean Winchester?"

Cas turned, his own eyes wide as he stared his brother in his whiskey colored ones. "How the hell do you know that?"

"It turns out the Winchester boy came in for an interview at the Roadhouse. He had a brother with him..." His voice trailed off as he scratched his chin. "Anyway, they both applied a few weeks ago. Ellen's seriously considering giving them both a job. Says she knows their uncle or something and he asked a favor. What's more, I think they both go to your school."

" _What?_ "

Gabe chuckled again, clearly enjoying this. "Yeah, Dean is a senior, like you, and Sam is a year behind... If I remember right..." His voice trailed off in thought once more. He suddenly turned his head to his brother. "I guess you're ready to get back to school then?" he said with a smirk.

Cas couldn't stop the blush, but he smiled, a grin ear to ear. "Hell yeah I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear from you guys :)


	3. They Meet Again

Cas took a deep breath as he stared down the piano keyboard in front of him, feeling nothing but frustration. The keys simply sat there, seeming to mock him in his dumbfounded state of mind. His mentor, Naomi, had called the day before about a solo ensemble that was being held around the same time as the schools’ graduation, and insisted that Castiel start practicing right away, even though it was still months away. Apparently, representatives of highly esteemed colleges were going to be there, including some from Juilliard. 

Castiel had no idea which college he wanted to go into, but he had a list; and Juilliard was on it. This concert might be his one and only chance to actually present himself personally to one of the most prestigious schools out there, and actually have a chance at getting in. This one performance could determine his future career; as a musician (ideally), or otherwise.

The frazzled boy let loose the breath he had been holding and curved his fingers over the black and white keys once again, ignoring the sheets of paper spread out before him. Closing his eyes, he began to play, improvising his way across the keyboard. His right hand trailed up the keys and created a melody while his left began a steady and firm counterpart in a lower octave. He let out his emotions onto the keyboard, telling his frustrations with short, discordant notes.

After he played through his frustration, Cas’ mind began to wander, the notes he played following along. He thought of the porch swing on the deck as he and Gabriel sat and watched the sunset, all of those vibrant colors lighting the sky. The notes he played sounded out a relaxed, almost lazy melody as he thought of lemonade and smiles, the warmth and comfort of home…. Then green.

The song changed once again as the word and color ‘green’ became the only thing to fill his mind. In his mind's eye Cas was back in the grassy field, surrounded by the green that made him think of a pair of eyes. He could see those eyes in front of him as the boy they belonged to grinned at him, raindrops shining in his hair...and then he walked away, fading from Cas’ sight, becoming just a memory.

Cas’ fingers stopped, the notes he had been playing trailing away in the silence of the auditorium. He stayed still, letting them ring until the strings became silent. Reanimating, he hung his head with a heavy sigh, his hands moving to support him on the edges of the piano bench, the silence stretching over him like a blanket.

“Wow!”

Cas jerked in surprise; he hadn’t heard anyone enter. He lifted his head, but was blinded by the stage lights. He could only see a shadow moving toward him as it continued its’ clapping, a deep, rough laugh filling the space between claps. 

“Dude, that was  _ awesome _ ! I’ve never heard anything like it, let alone anyone play that well!”

The voice was deep but kind, and held a tone of bemused excitement. The shadowed figure stopped short of the stage, just out of the light, crossing its’ arms as it considered the young musician before it.

“Um...Do I know you?” Cas stuttered. 

“Dean!”

Castiel froze. Dean? As in…Winchester? Was the boy from the bus the same one standing in front of him now?

A girl with an expression more fiery than her hair popped into Castiel’s peripheral vision, glaring down at the boy. She turned and shot Cas a quick smile and a friendly “Hello Castiel,” before returning to her deathly gaze and the boy below. “You totally blew me off this weekend!”

There was a pause.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about Charlie.”

“Your  _ band _ ?” she said, placing a hand on her hip. “You were supposed to play at my cousin’s reception, remember?”

The boy clambered up onto the stage, on the other side of Castiel, and into the light. Cas’ heart stuttered; it  _ was _ him _. _ He wore a red button-up over a black t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his elbows, barely able to contain his muscles. 

“Charlie, no one even contacted my band for anything within this past  _ month _ .”

Charlie scoffed. “I asked you myself! Like, last week!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t ask their permission! We couldn’t just show up at a wedding where the couple didn’t even know we were coming!”

“It was  _ supposed _ to be a surprise! Dean, this could’ve been your big break! Instead, everyone had to suffer through a string quartet! A  _ quartet _ of all things!”

By this point, Cas had sat back down on the piano bench, watching the exchange. It was quite humorous; Dean towering over Charlie with a stern glare while she flailed her arms and glared right back. It was so comical it made him smirk.

As their argument became more heated, they were interrupted by the bell, the sound echoing through the empty space of the room. Castiel took that as his cue and silently gathered his sheet music and crouched to put it into his backpack.

“Dean, you  _ owe _ me!”

“Okay fine! But can we talk about this later, Charlie?”

Charlie scoffed and rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Dude, we have first period together. We can talk about payment on the way.”

Dean dragged a hand across his face, squeezing his eyes closed. “Yeah, but I want to talk to Cas, so I’ll meet you there, okay?”

Castiel lifted his head, staring up at Dean, eyes wide. He hadn’t been expecting that. Apparently neither had Charlie.

“Wait, you guys know each other?” She looked between the two boys, as if trying to see their connection. “How? No, more importantly, when?”

Dean sighed. “Later, okay Charlie?”

“Ugh,  _ fine _ ,” she huffed, giving another major eye roll. “You better not be late, Winchester. We have much to talk about.” With that she dragged her backpack with her to the backstage exit.

………………..

Cas had stared after Charlie, closing the zippers on his backpack. “She always that flamboyant?”

Dean groaned. “That’s only the tip of the iceberg, my friend.”

Castiel stood and slung his backpack over a shoulder. The hoodie he wore was obviously too big for him; making him look smaller than he actually was. Though his outfit was all muted colors, Dean couldn’t help but notice that his eyes seemed to be an even more vibrant blue than he remembered from that time on the bus.

Cas stood before him, playing with his sleeves, pushing one up to his elbow, the other remaining bunched around his wrist. “So… What was it you wanted to talk about?” He asked, his voice having a tint of nervousness. “I need to get to class.”

It was Dean’s turn to be flustered. “I uh… Nothing really, I just wanted her gone,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We can talk as we walk anyway. Where’re you headed?” he asked, moving to jump off the stage.

“Math,” Cas said simply, his voice small.

“Cool, that’s on the way to my own class,” Dean smiled at Cas as he threw his bag over his shoulder. “Lead the way, piano man.”

Cas smiled as he passed and walked down the aisle way to the doors. Stepping into the hallway, they turned left, sharing in a companionable silence, moving through the chaos others created around them. 

Dean couldn’t stop himself anymore. “I have to say Cas, I’ve never heard anything like that. How long have you played?”

Castiel smiled and ducked his head, staring at the ground. “Since I was little. It’s one of the things that makes me truly happy.”

Dean blinked, his eyes on Castiel. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but everything that came out of Cas’ mouth intrigued him further. He was still a person, a high school kid, but he was so  _ different _ ; not so much in appearance or sociability, but his aura. He seemed...genuine.

“Dean.”

He refocused, panic crowding in his mind. Damn, had he just been caught staring? Cas was staring right back, a hand on Dean’s shoulder, holding him still; Dean hadn’t noticed that they had stopped in the middle of the open area, people streaming around them to their class.

Cas searched Dean’s face. “Are you okay, Dean?”

Dean’s hand reached up and rubbed one of his eyes, trying to hide his embarrasment. “Yeah, sorry. Just tired, I guess,” he smiled at Cas, who looked like he didn’t believe him for one second. 

“Okay,” was all he said, albeit with a smirk, and they began walking again, his hand falling from Dean’s shoulder. 

“Was that an original piece you were playing?” Dean asked, his eyes intent on Cas.

He rubbed a temple as he answered. “Yeah, that was original. I uh, made it up right there, actually.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me! It takes me forever to even think of a melody!”

Cas turned to him, his brow furrowed. “You’re in a band, right? You play the guitar?” At Dean’s nod, he continued; “It only makes sense it’d be harder, you have a lot of different parts to put together: The bass, guitar, drums, not to mention the lyrics, which are a whole separate thing. Though I haven’t heard your band yet, I admire that you’re able to put it together at all. That seems like the real challenge to me.”

Dean scoffed, completely stunned. Not one person had ever said that, not even the other band members. Occasionally they gave him ideas or feedback, but Dean was ultimately the songwriter for the group.

“Well, this is my stop,” Cas’ voice trailed off as he stopped in front of a doorway, turning to Dean.

“Right…” Dean put his hands in his pockets, not really sure what to say. “Well uh… See you later?” he asked, looking up at Cas with his head bowed and brow furrowed. 

Was it him, or did Cas actually start to go red? The dark-haired boy gave a soft laugh and a hitched smile. “Yeah Dean, I’ll see you later.”

With that he withdrew into his class, reluctantly leaving Dean out in the hallway.

Dean backed out into the hallway, staring at the door Cas had walked through. He was already having a new song idea playing through his head--only to be interrupted by the tardy bell.

Dean snapped out of it, turned, and ran down the hall to his class, cursing under his breath.


	4. Distractions

“What has gotten  _ into _ you?” Charlie asked, her intense gaze on Dean’s face as he fidgeted in his seat for the umpteenth time.

“Hmm?” Dean cast a glance at her, then at the board, then his work on the table. “I’m fine, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed, not believing him. “Well then stop moving for five seconds.”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, a smile on his face. “Yeah, okay. That’s easy.”

He focused back on his work, with Charlie watching him closely, completely ignoring their assignment. Dean began to tap out a rhythm with his free hand on the table, until Charlie slapped it still.

“Ow!”

“Dude, that wasn’t even three seconds. Try again.” She said, her voice dripping with challenge as she leaned back in her chair, arms folded.

Dean sighed and scratched at his head. “You know, you could help me with this stupid thing instead,” he said, gesturing to the work in front of him. Charlie stuck her tongue out at him in reply. “Okay fine, I’ll do it myself.” He began to work once more.

He tried, he really did, but he just couldn’t keep still. His leg started bouncing underneath the table without his consent, and he got a light smack on the arm before Charlie crowded his personal space. 

“Okay, seriously Dean, talk to me. What’s got you all hot and bothered?”

Dean ducked his head as he scoffed. “Nothing, I’m fine.” Only after he spoke did he actually look at Charlie. She put her elbow on the table, glaring at Dean. “Maybe it’s not a what… Okay,  _ who  _ is it?”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“You’re never this fidgety unless there’s someone you’re interested in,” she rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe it wasn’t my first guess. So c’mon, tell me. Who is it?”

Dean could feel himself starting to blush. He looked away, avoiding Charlie's gaze. “There’s no one. Seriously, I’m good.”

“Yeah, you are…” she said, her voice trailing off. “Is it Castiel?”

His head whipped toward her. “What?”

She smiled, with a gleam of triumph in her eye. “You heard me. It’s him, isn’t it?”

“No! Charlie, c’mon, you know I’m not gay.” She gave him a knowing look, which made him fidget. “Okay fine. He’s a really cool guy, and I just want to get to know him. But I’m still not gay, Charlie, just making that clear,” he threw in the last part at the look on Charlie’s face.

Charlie knew better. She could tell, just from those few words. She decided to stay quiet and let him stew. This was something that Dean needed to figure out on his own; she could only hope that it would be soon.

“I will admit,” he continued, “that since meeting him on that bus….” He trailed off and licked his lips. “Charlie, I’ve started writing songs again.” He looked at her, watching her face.

“Wait… As in, originals?”

Dean nodded, a smile on his face and a gleam in his eye. “Yeah. I don’t know what it is, but something about this Castiel kid  _ sparks  _ something, and I can’t stop writing music.” His smile got brighter as he spoke. 

“Dean, that’s great! I can’t wait to hear them.”

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. “Alright guys, turn your papers in! If they’re not finished, I expect to see you after school until they are.”

Charlie reached to the paper on their table as Dean bent to put his book back in his bag. He sat back up, only to be smacked by Charlie with her own book.

“Seriously Dean? There’s only ten lines!”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t help!”

……………………..

Castiel walked down the street, his mind as deep in thought as his hands were in his coat pockets. He ended up missing the bus on his way home from a concert. He had accompanied his friend Lisa for her violin solo ensemble. 

The boy sighed as he continued on his way. Today had been...unusual. After his conversation with his brother, Castiel had been looking forward to going back to school and finding Dean Winchester. But Naomi had called the morning after their talk and had put so much pressure on him to start practicing that he had forgotten all about the boy from the bus. 

The way that they met this morning was not at all how Castiel wanted it to happen. Once he found out that he was in the presence of Dean, he had gotten flustered and didn’t know what to say. He let Dean do all the talking, which he seemed to do just fine, but Cas felt bad that he didn’t really contribute.

Then for the rest of the day he couldn’t get those ridiculous green eyes and easy smile out of his head, ruining his concentration in all of his classes, which his teachers surely noticed. Because he had been distracted, he nearly forgot that Lisa had her concert right after school and was almost late, barely having time to change into his suit and tie. And now he had missed the bus and had to walk home; the bus he missed having been the last for the day.

He came to a crosswalk and jogged across the street, watching for cars as he made his way. Once his path straightened out again, he looked out at the valley spread before him. The sun was setting, laying everything in a golden haze, and it was beautiful, putting a small smile on Cas’ face. Until he felt a raindrop.

Castiel stopped and turned his face to the sky, letting out a heavy sigh. The rain came faster and faster, the water having a chill to it. He pulled out his cell phone only to discover that the particular small area he was in didn’t have service, so he couldn’t call for a ride. He still had a ways to go until he reached home. Hopefully he could make it before he got wet enough to get sick.

He began on his way once more, shrugging deeper into his trench-coat. At least he had that. It had been given to him by his father, before he had passed. He had been a musician as well, playing all sorts of instruments, along with being able to sing. He had worn this coat whenever he traveled to a new performance, saying that he could feel his wife’s love and blessing which gave him the courage to perform. Now Castiel did the same thing, wearing it every time he had a performance, hoping that the good luck his father had had at his performances would rub off onto himself. Even if that didn’t happen, he liked thinking that he had a connection to his parents.

A honk jumped him out of his thoughts. He turned to see a car pull up beside him, a black, classic looking car. The passenger-side window rolled down, and a boy with long hair and kind eyes poked his head out.

“You want a ride?”

Cas shuffled in place, not really sure how to answer. Yes, he needed a ride, but he also didn’t know this guy. That’s when the driver leaned forward, into Castiel’s line of sight, with a grin. 

“Heya Cas! Hop on in.” Dean said, voice light.

That made the decision for Cas. He could already tell he wouldn’t be able to say no to this green-eyed boy, no matter what it was he asked. 

Castiel slid into the back, closing the door with soft click. “Thank you,” was all he seemed to be able to say. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the eyes peering at him in the rearview mirror. It seemed like he might never be able to hold his side of a conversation with this boy.

“Cas, this is my dork of a brother Sam. Sam, Piano Man in the back is Cas,” Dean said as he turned the car back out into traffic.

Sam turned in his seat to look at Castiel. “Nice to meet you,” he said, a smile on his face. Cas nodded in reply.

“So where to, Cas?”

“Home,” he said, scratching at his temple. 

“Okay, you’ll have to tell me the way.”

“It’s near the Roadhouse Grill, if you know where that is.”

Sam turned again, the leather of the seat protesting. “No way, I work there!”

“Really?” Cas couldn’t help but notice Dean’s small smile at his brother’s excitement. “So then you might know my brother. He’s the cook there.”

Sam’s face scrunched up. “Gabriel? The guy that always has a sucker in his mouth?”

Cas gave a small smile and a nod. “That’s him.”

“Really? From what I can tell, you guys are nothing alike.”

“Well, after our parents passed we went to separate foster homes until Missouri brought us back together.”

An awkward silence filled the car as Sam froze with wide eyes. “Oh gosh,” he said. “I-I’m sorry, I--”

Cas smiled. “It’s fine Sam. Don’t worry about it, really.”

“So,” Dean interjected after another pause, “Why were you out in the rain Cas?”

“I missed the bus,” he sighed. He said it in a way that made Dean huff out a laugh.

“Well, lucky for you we were running late today,” he said as he made a turn, heading toward the Roadhouse.

“Yeah, only because you slacked off.”

“Shut up, it was Charlie's fault.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“If I can ask, how do you know Charlie?” Cas inquired.

“Oh, we grew up together,” Sam offered. “She’s been down the street from us since… basically forever.”

“How do you know her, Cas?” Dean asked, following the curve of the road.

“Through school, mostly. She  _ is _ in the student body presidency. She kind of knows everybody.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Cas started to pay attention to the road ahead of them, as they were getting closer to the diner. “Turn right at the intersection here,” he said, guiding Dean.

Dean took the turn, using one hand to maneuver the steering wheel. Cas couldn’t help but stare at the hand in admiration. It was in the silence that followed that he realized music was playing. He tilted his head, trying to place it.

“Is this… Zeppelin?”

Dean smiled and met his eyes in the rearview. “Heck yeah it is. You have good taste, my friend,” he said, reaching to turn up the volume. They listened to it in companionable silence for a while, following the stretch of road that passed by numerous fields. 

“Oh, my house is coming up. It’s on the left up here.”

Dean eased the car into the turn and up the long gravel drive to the two-story, cottage styled house. 

“Nice digs, Cas,” Dean commented, putting the car into park. He turned in his seat, his arm stretching out along the seat as he faced Castiel with a smile.

Cas could feel himself heating up. “Thanks Dean, and thank you for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said, then paused, an idea popping in his head. “Hey, gimme your phone,” he requested, holding his hand out toward Cas.

The boy tilted his head and furrowed his brow in confusion as he handed it over.

“Really Cas? A flip-phone?” Dean asked, his voice a bit disbelieving. Castiel only shrugged in reply, his cheeks pink.

Dean flipped it open, his fingers pressing several buttons in a quick, consecutive order. “There,” he said, with a final push of a button. He handed it back to Cas. “Now if you ever need a ride in the future, you can just text me.”

Cas stared at Dean, who had a smile on his face, before accepting his phone back. “Thank you Dean,” he said softly, not able to meet those gorgeous eyes and bright smile. 

“It was nice meeting you, Sam,” he said, not wanting to forget him. 

“Yeah, you too Cas,” he said, a smile in his voice.

Cas went to open the door, but Dean caught his attention once more.

“See you tomorrow?”

That was all he said, but it had a huge impact on Cas. All he could do was nod in reply. 

“Cool,” Dean said, that easy smile making another appearance. Cas took his chance and stepped out of the car quickly. He dashed up to the house, shaking himself off as the brothers drove off in the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am I doin'?


	5. A Private Show

The next morning, Sam woke to a very rare and unusual sight. His alarm had gone off at 6:30 am, and he stumbled down the stairs to a sudden stop. He rubbed his eyes just to make sure, but what he saw before him was, if fact, real.

Dean was fully dressed, humming under his breath, and… making breakfast. He turned to empty a pan full of scrambled eggs into a bowl when he noticed his brother standing still and staring.

“Mornin’ Sammy!” he bellowed. 

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “This isn’t real. Who are you and what have you done to my brother?” 

Dean only smiled at him. “C’mon, don’t be like that. I made bacon!”

“Since when do you make breakfast?”

“Well I ain't complainin’,” Bobby said as he wandered into the kitchen. “Boy,” he said, addressing Dean as he filled a plate with eggs, bacon, and toast; “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but right now I don’t mind. We’ll talk about it more later,” he moved to include Sam in the conversation. “I’ve got a lot of work to do today in the yard, so if you boys have some free time, you’re more than welcome to stop by. Lord knows I could use the help,” he muttered as he walked out the door, a newspaper folded under his arm. 

The boys called out after him, saying their goodbyes. They most likely wouldn’t see him until it was time for dinner. 

“Alright, dig in!” Dean exclaimed as he handed Sam a plate full of food on his way to the table with his own massive pile. Dean took his own advice and shoveled the food into his mouth, Sam still not having moved from the bottom of the stairs.

What was up with his brother?

……………….

Class had just finished, and it was time for lunch. But Cas didn’t feel especially hungry. To be honest, he felt a little nauseous. Maybe he had gotten sick from the rain after all. 

Since he wasn’t really hungry, and he really didn’t want to deal with the mob of people crowding the cafeteria, he decided to spend his lunch period outside, to take in the last warmth before it got too cold outside.

He walked out the doors, the leaves that already scattered the ground crunching under his feet and rustling with the wind. There weren’t many people out, probably because lunch had just started, and it was getting colder every day. 

Castiel sat down at one of the many empty tables, not minding that he was alone. Hannah might get a bit mad at him, but for now he was content to be alone. He needed some peace and quiet to clear his head from this ridiculous headache he had.

He put his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table, as he let out a heavy sigh and relaxed, listening to the empty courtyard around him. But instead of hearing only birds and the rustle of leaves, he heard something else, something musical. Was that a guitar? It was faint, so it was hard to tell.

Not able to resist, Castiel stood, walking towards the sound. It became clearer, less muffled from a distance, and it was definitely a guitar.

Cas poked his head around the corner of the building, now lost in the chords and rhythm being strummed on the instrument. Whoever was playing was really--wait. Was that Dean? As he watched, the boy shifted on his seat on the steps in a way that gave Cas a better view of his face, confirming his suspicion.

He was in a simple, fitted black tee; Cas couldn’t help but notice that it hugged his form quite nicely. Dean was singing under his breath, his eyes closed as he swayed in time with the song, one that Cas didn’t recognize.

“ _ Yours was the first face that I saw. I think I was blind before I met you…” _

Just the sight of Dean being lost in the music made Cas’ heart stutter, and he decided to watch for a while, listening to Dean’s magical voice. He leaned against the side of the school, not sure if he’d be able to support himself properly. He couldn’t take his eyes away from Dean; it was a slow and soft song, but Dean seemed to animate it with his voice and body.

_ “And so I thought I’d let you know, that these things take forever, I especially am slow…” _

The song continued, and Dean kept swaying, singing and strumming softly, slowing only when it came to the end. Once the strings stopped vibrating, he sighed and opened his eyes. That’s when he saw Cas.

He cried out, nearly falling off the steps he was perched on. “Jeez Cas, don’t sneak up on people like that,” he said, clearly embarrassed, straightening his shirt and not meeting Cas’ soft smile.

“Sorry,” he muttered, the toe of his shoe kicking the ground.

“How… How long have you been there anyways?” Dean asked, his face a bit flushed.

“Probably longer than you’d like,” Cas laughed, meeting Dean’s eyes with a cheeky smile. “But I thought your band was more into the rock’n’roll type of music.”

Dean looked down, avoiding Cas’ searching eyes as he scratched at his head. “Yeah, well… The softer stuff is a bit of a guilty pleasure for me.” His cheeks were definitely red by now.

Cas moved closer, sitting down against the side of the cement steps, beside Dean’s dangling leg. “You should play some more,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

“What?”

“You heard me. I want to hear you play.” He opened his eyes to see Dean staring down at him incredulously. The sun sparked off of those bottle-green orbs, and Cas could feel his face heating up as he stared back. “You got to hear me play, it’s my turn to hear you.”

Dean mulled it over. “Alright, fair enough. Any requests?”

“No, not really. But what song were you playing before? I liked it.”

Dean chuckled. “It’s a song by Bright Eyes, called  _ First Day of My Life _ . But seriously, no requests?”

Cas shrugged. “Well, if I made a request, it wouldn’t really be  _ you  _ playing. Just play whatever you feel like, Dean.”

Cas moved around, making himself more comfortable as he waited for Dean to start playing. Only, nothing happened. He turned his head upward, looking at Dean once more. He had sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth holding it captive. 

“It doesn’t have to be an actual song, ya know,” Cas offered. “It could just be random improvisation.”

Dean nodded, his eyes squinting against the sun at the empty school yard, his lip still trapped in his mouth. It was suddenly released, popping back into place, and Cas couldn’t help his intake of breath. He shifted in his seat. That was down-right sexy, and the effect it had on him was totally unfair. 

“Just play already.”

“Shut up, I’m thinking.” After another minute Dean smiled, placing his hand on the neck of the guitar. “This one is one of my dad’s favorites,” he said, beginning to play. It was a song called  _ The Weight _ , and this time Cas recognized it. Dean didn’t add the words, just strummed the tune, but it still swept Cas away. The way he played just seemed to breath a life into the song that Cas thought of as a beautiful and rare talent.

The song soon ended, and the two boys sat in silence as the strings began to still, letting the quiet of the courtyard come over them in content.

A sudden realization hit Cas.

“Hey, since when do you have car?” he asked, once again opening his eyes to see green staring back.

Dean’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that I met you on the bus, but yesterday you had a car and gave me a ride. Just wondering, is all.”

Dean smiled down at him. “I had to take the car into the shop for my dad. It was finished by the time the break was over.”

“Does he drive you here?”

“No. He works all day, so Sammy and I drop him off on our way to school, and he doesn’t get home until real late. Sometimes not at all.” He said as he moved to put his guitar away.

“I’m sorry Dean,” Cas said, sincere apology in his voice.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, Cas.”

“Aw man, did we miss it?” 

Cas poked his head over the top of the cement stairs while Dean turned, to see Charlie dragging a brown-haired girl behind her.

“Hey Charlie!” Dean called, a smile in his voice. “Who’ve you got against their will this time?”

“What, she’s done that before?” Cas asked, making Dean laugh. Butterflies soared in his stomach, and soared even higher at the revelation that he, Cas, was the one who had made Dean laugh. 

Charlie rolled her eyes, tugging the girl behind her forward. “Dean, this is Hannah. She’s on the presidency with me. Hannah, Dean,” she said, gesturing as she made the quick introductions. “Oh, hi Castiel!” she called, giving a wave at the boy who peered over the top of the staircase.

“Castiel? I’ve been trying to find you all day!” Hannah cried, her grey eyes stormy as she stalked toward him.

“Hello Hannah,” Cas muttered, not meeting her eyes.

“You never gave me an answer,” she folded her arms, her voice cold and hard. “Will you, or will you not, help me?”

Castiel squirmed, never liking public conflict. “I’d really prefer not to…” he said timidly.

Hannah nodded. “Okay then,” was all she said. 

“Wait, what?” That had not been what Cas had expected. He had been waiting for more of a fight.

“Well! Now that that’s settled,” Charlie interrupted, also not liking the tension of confrontation. She turned to Dean. “Are you gonna play a song for me?”

“Charlie, the bell’s about to ring.”

She waved away his concern. “So what? I’ll give you a hall pass if you’re worried about being tardy. I just want to hear those originals you were telling me about.”

Dean scoffed. “You’re kidding right?” At her glare he continued. “None of them are even close to being done!”

“So? I just want to hear what you’ve got so far.”

“Charlie--”

“You’re writing originals?” Cas asked, voice soft.

Dean turned to look down at him, about to say something, then closed his mouth, seeming to change his mind. “Yeah,” he said, his voice pitching up, as if he didn’t believe it himself. 

“I would love to hear one,” Cas said, not demanding or questing, simply stating.

Dean could only stare down at Cas, his mind going into over-drive. Something sparked inside him, and he slowly nodded. “Okay fine. But they’re not that good, so just remember that you forced me to play,” he said as he arranged the guitar back into place against his body. Beginning to play, he created a small bubble around the group, away from the high school world of tests, papers and due dates.

Normally Dean would never play an original outside of his band's practice. But Cas had asked him to. Though he didn't know it, Cas  _ was _ the inspiration for all the songs written so far, so it seemed only right that he heard them. For Cas, Dean would make an exception to his rule.


	6. A Breather

“So, I still don’t understand what Hannah was mad about,” Dean said, glancing over at Cas in the passenger seat as he drove down the street. Cas wouldn’t meet his eyes as he squirmed.

“Apparently our school accepts donations, and she was put in charge of doing a type of banquet or something for those who do. She wants me to play for it. Or she did at one point.” His voice sounded flat, which Dean thought suspicious.

“Dude, c’mon, that’s great! You’re a great musician, everyone would love it! You should talk to her and tell her you changed your mind.”

“But Naomi says--”

“Screw Naomi.” Dean’s voice was hard. He took a breath, trying to keep himself calm. “Look, I know she’s trying to help you with this awesome opportunity coming, but that’s  _ months _ away. You’ve got time.” He looked over to see Cas staring at him, his expression soft. “I think focusing on something else right now would do you good. She pushes you too hard.”

It was true. It had been a few weeks since they had both gone back to school after the break, and they had been spending their time together more and more. But when they weren’t in school or hanging out, Cas was stuck practicing.

He claimed to enjoy it, most of the time, but Dean could see that it was draining him; as a musician and as a person. It’s never fun playing the same piece of music over and over again; especially not if it has to be the same way every time, which Naomi was quite incessant on. She kept putting unnecessary pressure on Cas, and Dean could clearly see the side effects, even if Cas didn’t and insisted he was fine. Dean didn’t know the woman personally, but he had a feeling that if he met her, they wouldn’t get along all that well.

Dean slowed down as he made a turn, silence spreading thin between the two boys.

“You’re right, Dean,” Cas muttered, looking down at his hands. “She does push me, but I think I need that push, in order to be the best I can. She may be a bit harsh, but I think that right now she knows what’s best. At least for this particular performance.”

Dean parked and turned off the car, turning to give Cas his full attention.

“Which is great, Cas. I’m not saying that she doesn’t help you, I’m just saying it’s okay for you to take a breather, alright? It’s okay to relax.”

Cas blinked, and Dean thought he saw his cheeks going pink as he shifted in his seat.

“Is that why you asked me to come today?”

Dean gave him a cheeky grin. “That’s right on the money, Piano Man. I brought you to my band’s rehearsal so you could just sit back, maybe put your feet on the table.” He paused as he made his way to open the door. “Though if you do, Ellen will probably kill you.” He winked and climbed out of the car. He had opened the trunk and had grabbed his guitar before Cas had gotten out and closed the door.

“I don’t think so. I think Ellen actually likes me more than you,” he challenged, hunching deeper into that tan trench-coat he took to wearing since it got colder.

“Yeah? You wanna bet?” Dean asked, that stupid grin still plastered on his face.

But as soon as his eyes found Cas’, that grin began to slip. The blue of those eyes became fiercely possessive; Dean’s heart stuttered and his breath caught, though he wasn’t sure why. Cas gave a small smirk, his eyes hooded as he said in a low voice; “I think that could turn into a dangerous kind of bet, Dean. And one you would certainly lose.” His eyes lingered as long as they could as he turned to walk through the entrance to the Roadhouse Grill, leaving Dean behind to deal with the sudden swarm of butterflies in his gut.

He rubbed his brow, utterly confused as he watched Cas’ retreating form, feeling rattled. What the hell just happened?

…………………

Cas took a sip from his drink, watching the band on stage. Or, more specifically, Dean. He was a natural on stage, and the lights that shone on him just highlighted what was attractive about him--everything. Cas took another, longer pull at his drink, trying to cool himself down, and not just from the temperature. It would be a bit embarrassing to be caught being turned on in the middle of an empty restaurant. He tried to think of boring, everyday things in a nearly futile effort.

He could tell with perfect clarity that he was definitely attracted to Dean. He probably had been since meeting him that rainy day on the bus, if he stopped to think about it. But now that attraction had seemed to grow into something more, something harder to control, and Cas didn't want to think about spending a single day without seeing Dean. The green-eyed boy might not feel the same-- _ yet _ \-- but Cas could also tell he had  _ some  _ kind of effect on him.

“Alright, I think we should do it again from the top. Benny, whenever you’re ready.”

“Yeah brother, just give me a sec…” Benny’s gruff voice trailed off as he fiddled with the speaker connected to his guitar.

“No way, is it giving you trouble again?” Dean asked as he made his way over to him.

“Yeah… Ya know, I think I just need a new cord...”

A plate of cheese fries was suddenly placed before Cas, and he lost track of their conversation. A girl with long, blonde, and wavy hair sat down beside him.

“Courtesy of the chef,” she said, and Cas turned to see his brother give a small wave from behind the counter. Cas returned the wave before turning back to eye the girl next to him.

“You must be Jo,” he said, reaching for the plate of food before him. 

“That’s right, and you must be Castiel,” she replied, her smile soft and pleasant. He nodded, smiling right back. He could already tell that he would really like Jo.

“So. Which one’s yours?” she asked, eyes on the stage.

“De--I’m uh, not entirely sure what you mean by that,” he stuttered, his hand straying through his hair. Damn it. He was blushing bright, and he knew Jo could see it. He looked back at the stage only to have his eyes catch on Dean’s form.

She smirked at his slack-jaw expression. “Oh, I get it now. He doesn’t feel the same way yet, am I right?” Cas ducked his head, unsuccessfully trying to hide his smile.

“Okay, am I just that easy to read or something?” he asked, finally facing her head-on. The band began to play once more, Lucifer’s drumbeat and cymbal crashes a welcome cover to their conversation.

Jo just gave him a look.

“Well damn,” Cas said, his voice defeated. If Jo, who he had just met, could tell so easily that he was into Dean, did that mean it was just as obvious to Dean?

Jo bumped his side with her elbow. “Don’t worry, your ‘secret’ is safe here. I’ve known Dean for a while, and he’s clueless about things like this. You’ve got time,” her voice was reassuring, but Cas wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, and he hesitantly confessed his fear to Jo.

“I mean, shouldn’t something have happened by now?”

Jo sat back and crossed her arms. “I get it. But like I said, Dean is slow. It took him forever to figure out that I liked him myself a couple years ago,” she sighed. Cas choked on his drink.

Jo laughed as his water spilled all over the table. “Don’t worry, that was a long time ago, and I’m over it. But he only figured it out after I got tired of waiting and moved on.”

Cas blinked. “So how is him being slow a good thing?”

“You really want it to go somewhere?” Jo asked, her eyes sliding over to him. At his nod, she continued; “You’ve got time to figure out what it is you want. And then you can start shaping the relationship in that direction. But I also have to say that in order for it to go somewhere, you may have to take a risk or two.”

Cas tilted his head and stared at her incredulously. “Where have you been hiding?” he asked, impressed by the maturity of this girl. 

She scoffed. “Oh, I don’t hide. People just--”

“Jo!”

They both turned to see a tall, lanky boy leaning against the door to the back. “Ash and I need your help back here.”

“Really Garth? You’re going to make me do inventory with you?”

He shrugged. “We got a lot of stuff today. And I could use your help to mess with Ash.” He muttered the last part.

Jo grinned. “Be back there in a sec,” she said, and turned back to Cas. “Good luck, but I don’t think you’ll need much of it.” She squeezed his arm in farewell as she left the table.

Cas thought about what she said. Maybe it was time for him to take one of those risks…

……………….

Dean looked down at his phone in exasperation. Sammy had just called telling him to return one of his many books to the library before it closed, acting like it would be the end of the world if it were to be late.

“Everything okay Dean?” Cas poked his head out of the back door, the one that led back to the stage. “You kinda left all of a sudden.”

“Yeah, Sammy’s just being a girl. Nothing new.” Dean stopped moving as he watched Cas coming closer. He was in a long-sleeved grey henley, the blue of his eyes demanding Dean’s attention. It was snowing lightly, catching in the black of Cas’ mussed hair as he folded his arms, the sleeves bunched over his hands.

Dean swallowed, not being able to place what it was he was feeling; though he knew he’d felt it before. 

Cas kept coming, slowly moving into Dean’s space, those blue eyes studying his face. Dean could feel his face heating up, despite the cold. “Uh… Cas, w-what’re you doing?”

“Shh, Dean,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. “Close your eyes.”

Dean furrowed his brow, but Cas interrupted before he could ask. “I just want to...try something. Please just… Trust me.”

“Okay, fine. I trust you,” Dean sighed and gave in, closing his eyes. 

Cas hesitated, biting his lip as he stared at the boy before him. Was he sure he wanted to do this? That was a profound ‘yes’. Before he could change his mind, he closed his own eyes and leaned in.

Dean felt something press against his mouth, a brief touch of lip on lip, and Cas started to pull away, ending what he had just started. But Dean wasn’t done; he realized he wanted more, and he followed Cas’ retreating head with his own, wanting to put those soft lips back on his.

Cas had set a fire in his stomach, one that Dean wasn’t ready to put out, not quite yet. Cas stopped retreating when Dean’s hand was placed gently on the side of his face, anchoring him. He kissed Dean, and Dean kissed back, his body relaxing as he leaned further into Cas.

Cas’ hand traveled up Dean’s side as their kiss became more heated. His arm hooked around Dean’s back and shoulder, and Dean placed his other hand on Cas’ waist, tugging until their hips were flush.

This was better than Cas had imagined, and he was so glad that he could finally put his frustrations at ease. Dean, on the other hand, was surprised; he hadn’t even thought of this as a possibility, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself now that it had started. He held Cas even closer, deepening the kiss further as a hand trailed through Cas’ hair, softer than he thought it’d be. 

Cas’ mouth pushed back into Dean with more pressure and slid his tongue across those full lips, earning a full-body shiver. Dean retaliated by overtaking Cas’ mouth, his arms holding Cas to his body in a vice-like grip. Cas gave a moan, loving what Dean was doing to him. 

Dean pulled back, abruptly ending the kiss. Cas’ eyes reluctantly fluttered open to see Dean staring down at him, both of them panting and trying to catch their breath. Dean slowly removed his arms from Cas, green eyes never leaving blue, but his brow was furrowed.

“Woah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How'd I do? Was it weird? Was it awkward??


	7. A Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for whatever inadequacies there may be in regards to Mary's condition. I have limited knowledge when it comes to the world of medicine, so I apologize if anything seems off/wrong with her condition being believable. Also, this chapter might have triggers at the end for some.

Dean lay back on the couch in the living room, ankles crossed and a hand behind his head. Sam looked over at him as he sighed for the millionth time in the space of five minutes.

“Dude, what’s up?”

Dean glanced over at him. “Nothin’.” His eyes slid back to the TV screen. “I’m just tired.”

“Well, I know that’s complete bullshit.” Sam put aside his sketchbook and pencils as his frustration with his brother grew. “You’ve been more moody than a girl during PMS for the past three days, and I haven’t seen Cas since your band’s rehearsal on Saturday, when I was working. Thanks for the invite, by the way,” he muttered, his voice sour. He leaned forward in his seat, noting how Dean’s face was growing red as he rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know what happened, but I know it’s bugging the crap out of you. Just talk to me, man.”

Dean sat up, his face showing he was clearly uncomfortable. “It’s not that big a deal, okay?”

Sam rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe his brother sometimes. “Did you guys have a fight or something?” He knew that if he poked and prodded, Dean would eventually open up. He might not like how long it took, but he would always help his brother.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Or something…” his voice trailing off and his face getting more red by the minute. He also wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes. The younger brother crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. So if they hadn’t fought…

Sam put a hand to his chin, rubbing it as he thought back on all the times he’d seen Dean and Cas together. They had always seemed so compatible, and Cas’ eyes would always light up whenever he saw Dean… Sam had suspected that Cas might have a thing for his elder brother, but he could never be sure since he only saw him occasionally, and never for very long. Cas was also the only one who could make Dean laugh and smile the entire time they spent together, making him forget about all his crappy responsibilities back home.

Sam paused, thinking it over further. After school had started again, Cas and his brother had spent more and more time together, to the point where they would spend nearly every minute of their free time together; Dean would even take him to his band’s rehearsals. Sam had only been a couple of times himself. So if they hadn’t fought…

“Did uh… Did Cas… try something?”

Dean sat up straight, his face beet red. “W...what?! N-no! Hell no! Sammy, c’mon! Don’t be ridiculous.” Dean wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes, he wouldn’t stop fidgeting, and he kept playing with his hands.

“Interesting…” said Sam, clearly not believing his brother in the slightest. To be honest, he could really see the two of them being a good couple. “So… Did he kiss you?”

Dean blinked and spluttered, and Sam took that as his answer. “And did you kiss him back?” Try as he could he couldn’t hold back his smile anymore. 

Dean abruptly stood before his brother, utterly speechless, which was a rare feat for Sam. Whenever it happened, he couldn’t help but feel a bit proud, and this time was no different. He sat back in his chair, arms folded and a stupid grin on his face. “Did you like it?”

“Sam!”

Sam couldn’t help it; he started laughing. He tried to keep it quiet, tried to stop, but he couldn’t. It just kept building to the point where he was clutching his stomach with tears streaming down his face. 

“Ya know what, I don’t need this!” Dean bellowed. He walked toward the door, snatching the car keys from the nearby counter. “Screw this, and screw you! I’m going to see Mom.”

After throwing on his coat, he slammed the door behind him, the sounds of his brother’s laughter still echoing in his ears.

……………..

Dean plucked the strings of his guitar, the sound contrasting against the beep of machines in the room. 

“ _ I wish I was a slave to an age-old trade, like ridin’ around on railcars and workin’ long days. Lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways...” _

His voice was soft, barely registering over his guitar. He strummed along to the song, letting it ease the tensions from his mind and body.

_ “Call it one drink too many, call it pride of a man, but it don’t make no difference if you sit or you stand…” _

He closed his eyes, and leaned back his head, letting the music run through him. His foot tapped the tempo as he sped it up, his fingers on the neck of the guitar having a will of their own as his other hand easily strummed and plucked the rhythm.

_ “Yeah they both end in trouble and start with a grin. We do it over and over and over again…” _

The song was helping him escape. He wasn’t worrying about school or homework, the band, Sammy being an annoying girl...nothing. For once his mind was completely blank. 

His mind had been in overdrive ever since... _ that _ night. Every time he closed his eyes, it was all he could see; the yellow street-light shining down, the snow softly falling. All he could feel was the warmth of Cas’ breath as they shared the same space, those hands roaming over him, hair that was thick yet soft to the touch, lips that were gentle but controlling. All he could hear was Cas panting, saying his name in a murmur, and that glorious moan that caused Dean to feel a heat so strong it scared him.

He abruptly stopped playing, leaving the song unfinished. He hung his head low as he bent over the body of his guitar and sighed. Apparently not even music could help him escape from what Cas had done to him. Dean rubbed his forehead, feeling tired.

“Dean?” said a raspy voice, one that Dean would never grow tired of hearing.

He lifted his head and put on a smile, looking at the woman in the hospital-like bed he was proud to call his mother.

“Hey Mom,” he said, his voice soft and tender.

She smiled at him and struggled to speak again. “Baby.... Wha… What’s wrong?”

Dean put down his guitar and scooted his chair closer to the bedside. “Nothing, Momma. Nothing’s wrong.” He gently grasped her hand and held it up to his mouth, placing a kiss before resting the limp limb against his chin.

Her breath was labored and heavy, but she smiled down at him. “You stopped… You never stopped playing...before.”

Dean nodded and looked away guiltily. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Tell me…” 

She started to cough, but with the level of her paralysis she wasn’t able to do much but turn her head away. Dean grabbed a glass of water and gently wiped away her spittle with a towel, whispering sweet nothings to her as he helped her swallow.

“Thanks…” she huffed, shutting her eyes for a moment as she recovered. “Now, talk to...me. What’s...bothering you?”

Once again holding her hand, Dean heaved a heavy sigh, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

“There’s this guy,” he started, watching his mother’s face. “Named Castiel…” he trailed off.

“And?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, not sure how to continue. “We uh, we became real good friends.”

“That...sounds nice,” his mother encouraged.

“Yeah, it was. But then… h-he kissed me.” He continued to observe Mary’s face, trying to catch any surprise, disgust,  _ something _ . But all he saw was a small smile.

“And?”

Dean blinked and shifted in his seat. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but he hadn’t thought that this would be what he got. “I… I don’t know what to do now,” he confessed.

“Well that...all depends...on you. Did you--” she barked out a cough, and Dean could tell that this one was painful for her.

“Mom?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“I’m fine, dear... Did you... like it?” she asked, and this time she was the one watching.

“I… Um…” he stuttered. He  _ had _ liked it, but he couldn’t just admit it, could he? For as long as he could remember he had been interested in only girls. But then he had just happened to pick the seat next to Cas, and those blue eyes had become a part of his life, one that he had an ever growing appreciation for. 

“I’ll take...that...as a yes,” Mary smiled, chuckling lightly. Dean quirked the side of his mouth, loving the sound of her laugh, even if it was weak.

“But...you’re okay with it being a guy?” he asked tentatively.

“Oh, my little…angel. As long as they...make you...happy… I don’t… care much. So long...as I know...the gender...before I meet them.” Her breathing was coming in shorter spurts, and seemed to get more difficult.

“Mom, are you okay?” Dean asked, his expression growing more and more worried with every labored breath from his mother.

“I...I can’t… breath!”

Alarms in the room started going off, and Mary’s face began changing colors. Dean stood, still clutching his mother’s limp hand.

“Tessa!” he called, one of the many nurses he and his family had befriended. “Tessa! She needs you! Someone help!”

The room was soon overflowing with nurses and a couple doctors. They ushered him out of the room, practically shoving him aside. He rushed his hands through his hair, watching in helpless despair, the alarms on the machines still blaring. 

Tessa, dark hair up in a ponytail, rushed out, holding his guitar. “It was in the way,” she said, turning to go back into the room. 

“Tessa!” he called, making her turn towards him once more. “Is she alright?” She only looked back at him, eyes wide. “Just tell me she’s gonna be okay!” he demanded, but she was pulled back into the room before she could answer.


	8. The News

“So you wanna be some kind of big-shot lawyer, huh?”

Sam looked up at Gabriel. They were at work; Gabe was cleaning the grill while Sam was stocking the kitchen and doing dishes. Sam couldn’t help but feel like Gabe was questioning his life’s choices.

“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

Gabriel shook his head, his back to Sam as he worked. “Nothing. It’s very noble of you Samsquatch.”

Sam sighed as he stacked a bunch of cups. “I thought I told you not to call me that,” he muttered, moving to place the plastic-ware in the cupboard beside Gabe. “So you think I’m being noble. But..?”

Gabriel sighed and turned to face Sam, crossing his arms as he leaned against the side of the grill, cleaning it momentarily forgotten. “Have you thought of anything else?”

Sam furrowed his brow. “Like what?”

The sucker in Gabriel’s mouth twitched. “Oh, I dunno, like being an artist or something.”

Sam snorted. 

“Don’t be like that. I’ve seen your drawings, kiddo. They’re really good, and I think you could really go somewhere with it.”

Sam closed the cupboard and faced Gabriel as he sighed. “I would love to,” he admitted, scratching his nose. “But I can’t afford to. My family needs the money. My dad works day and night nearly every day and still struggles to keep us afloat. It may take a while for me to get successful enough to earn all that money, but it’ll be worth it in the long run. Besides,” he said, going back to work. “Dean is much more likely to succeed in following his dream. He works so hard with Bobby in the shop, at school, at everything really. He basically raised me, and I figure that the least I can do to pay him back is to help him live his dream.”

Gabriel looked at him skeptically. “By sacrificing your own, right?”

“Yeah, if it comes to that. I’m okay with it.”

Gabe shifted, putting a hand on the counter to support himself. “Again, that’s all very noble of you Gigantor, but tell me this: how’re you gonna pay for all of that schooling? It takes years to become a lawyer, and a crapload of money.”

Sam glanced at him, a stupid grin lighting up his face. “Scholarships,” he said simply.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Are you really that good in school?”

“I’ve got a 4.0 GPA, and on the practice ACT, I got a thirty-freakin’-five. There’s no way I won’t get offered a full ride  _ some _ where. And I can work at least part time while I’m in school, so I don’t have much to worry about,” he said, completely ignoring Gabriel’s wide eyes.

“Well aren't you just a total smart-ass,” was all he could say, his tongue playing with the sucker in his mouth.

Sam turned to him, a cheeky grin on his smug little face, and they stared at each other, each sizing the other up with nothing more than their eyes. Until Sam’s phone rang.

He jumped, his face a bit flushed as he dug it out of his pocket, Gabriel clearing his throat and going back to work. 

“Hey Dean…  _ What? _ ”

Gabe looked up at Sam, his face now pale and terrified. Gabe’s brow wrinkled in concern, but he knew better than to interrupt.

“Is she...Is she okay?” Sam’s voice was shaky as he pushed a hand through his long hair, his hazel eyes wide. “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“What’s up?” Gabriel wanted to help, but was clearly unsure how.

“It-it’s my mom. Something happened, and I… I need to go.” Sam pushed past Gabe, the slightly smaller man close behind. 

“Sam, let me give you a ride.”

Sam stopped, clearly in shock about whatever happened. He nodded numbly, finally meeting Gabriel’s eyes once more.

“Okay.”

……………

Gabe dropped Sam off at The Terrace, the place where the rest of his family was. He watched him rush inside before driving his way back home. He was really worried and wanted to be there for Sam and his family, but he knew they needed some time alone. Besides, he probably wouldn’t be well received in the first place; he barely knew Sam, what right did he have to check in on him?

The car remained quiet as he drove, the driver lost in his own thoughts. He was on autopilot until he suddenly found himself parked in front of Missouri’s place. His gaze fixed on the house, he paused after turning off the ignition.

Castiel was inside. He would want to know. He  _ should _ know, but Gabe didn’t feel like it should be coming from him. He sighed heavily before making himself get out of the car and work his way up to the door.

He paused in the entryway, the door squeaking as it swung wide. He could hear Castiel playing on the piano, like usual whenever he arrived. It was a song he recognised, one that made it hard to swallow. 

It was the waltz that their mother would play for them; the Butterfly Waltz. She would play it for them whenever they had had a bad day, whenever they were upset. It had been her absolute favorite to listen to, as well as to play. Gabriel would often walk in on her playing and would just watch her, a bright smile shining on her face as her hands moved the keys to her will. He remembered that whenever she played it, anything bad in life seemed to disappear, to be replaced with only brightness and love.

Maybe that was why Castiel was playing now, he mused, as he slowly made his way through the house to the entryway where his little brother sat at the white colored grand piano. Light bounced softly off of the gold trimmings of the instrument, and a breeze played with the pale curtains on the open windows while Gabriel leaned against the doorjamb, closing his eyes as he listened, content to let it wash away his worries. If only it were that simple. Hopefully it was working for Castiel.

When Gabriel had stopped by before leaving for his apartment on Saturday, after closing down the Roadhouse, Castiel had been waiting for him, lying on the sofa in the dark. 

“Gabe, I kissed Dean,” he had said, shattering the silence and nearly giving his brother a heart attack.

“Jeez! Cassie, what’re you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered. He sat up on the couch, making room for his elder brother. “So… What should I do now?”

Gabriel had sat down with a huff, rubbing his forehead. “Well, all I can say right now is to give it time, lil’ bro.”

And Castiel had. By Gabe’s count, it had been about three days since that night, and he had watched his little brother struggle to keep his distance, and his cool. He could see that not being around Dean was hard for Castiel, especially since Dean had been avoiding him at school, according to Cas. He would worry and complain about not knowing if Dean felt the same way for hours on end, if Gabriel let him. But he didn’t, and had repeatedly told him to shut up.

The song was coming to a close, and Gabriel opened his eyes once more, watching his brother sway in time with his head tilted back and eyes closed, the song obviously put to memory. Once finished, the last chords ringing out, Gabriel didn’t dare disturb them. He waited until Castiel slumped where he sat, then gently cleared his throat.

Cas whirled on his seat, the grin on his face telling Gabriel that the song had worked its’ magic for him. Gabe felt bad that he was about to take that away.

“Hey Gabe! Welcome home,” he said, his voice cheerful.

Gabriel shifted, feeling a bit uncomfortable. “Cassie…” he trailed off, and Castiel could tell from just one word that something was wrong. His expression changed, losing all that light it had momentarily gained.

“Gabe, what’s wrong?”

“It’s um… It’s Sam. And Dean.” Why was Gabriel having such a hard time right now? “Their mom… Well, something happened.”

He looked up to Castiel’s face, now pale and eyes wide. “I don’t know what it was, but I think that those boys will be needing you Cassie. Especially Dean.”

Castiel nodded, his body slowly gaining momentum as he moved from the piano bench. “Yeah, okay. I-I’ll go over right now and--”

“No, Castiel,” Gabe said softly. “I just dropped Sam off. Let’s give them some time. Just… Let Dean know that you’ll be there for him if needed. I’ll do the same for Sam.”

Castiel nodded, not sure how to act or deal with a situation like this. “Okay, yeah.”


	9. Family Matters First

**Dean, I heard something happened. Let me know if I can help in some way. ~~Castiel**

Dean looked at the message on the screen of his phone. He wasn’t sure what to reply, so he just ignored it. He put his face in his hands, a heavy sigh escaping, but giving no relief. He glanced up to see his father at his mother’s bedside, her sleeping face calm while John silently cried with her hand clutched to his forehead. Sam sat near the window, gazing out at the darkening clouds in the sky, his face pinched with worry. It looked like it might rain.

The doctors had told them that Mary’s lungs had temporarily seized, and although she was now fine, they wanted to run more tests. They had said that this may be a sign of her slow decline progressing faster than they had originally thought. Where they thought she had years left, now she may have only a few more months at most. She may not even be able to be a part of Dean’s upcoming graduation.

“Boys,” John said, his voice rough and raw. Dean shared a glance with Sam before turning to his father. “I need you to know… I never wanted anything like this for you.”

“We know, Dad.”

“No you don’t,” he snapped. He took a breath, trying to keep himself calm, his sons staring at him with wide eyes. “You boys have been anchors for me, in all of this… I’m sorry I could never truly provide for you.” He paused, reaching out to stroke Mary’s hair from her face. “I’ve been so focused on your mother I never really saw you grow up… That I forced you to grow up. You need to know that I’m impressed with the men you've become, and I am proud to call you my sons.”

The room was still, the two boys in shock. It was something that they had always wanted to hear from their father, that he was proud of them, but they had never expected their father to actually say it. For him to admit it at all surprised them, and they weren’t really sure how to react.

“We’re family, Dad,” Sam offered, his voice soft. “It’s what we do.”

John nodded, a forced smile on his face. Standing, he stooped to kiss his wife's forehead before straightening and wiping any raw emotion from his face. “I need to head back,” he said, his eyes never leaving Mary’s face. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll do my best to be back by the weekend. See you boys.” He walked out of the room, eyes on the floor as he threw his coat on, not looking at his children.

The room was quiet for a while, before Sam reached into his bag and pulled out a book. He glanced at Dean, who gave a nod, saying it was okay. Sam scooted the free chair closer to his mother’s side before sitting down and opening the book. He cleared his throat and began to read.

“‘Three weeks after Granny Blakeslee died, Grandpa came to our house for his early morning snort of whiskey, as usual, and said to me…’”

Dean gave a small smile. It was one of her favorites;  _ Cold Sassy Tree _ . She had read bits and pieces to them sometimes when they would stop by after school. They would stay for a few hours, listening to the story her musical voice weaved into the air, making them forget that she was stuck in a hospital bed in a care facility. Until the point came where she could no longer hold up a book.

So Sam took it upon himself to continue the occasional readings; he always had a copy of the book on hand. It was a bit old and worn, the pages yellowed, but it was one of the things that the small family cherished. 

…………………….

Dean had listened for a while, but he needed some fresh air. He knew his mother would be fine for a long while still, but after watching her struggle to breath, and doctors swarming her room… he was still shaken up.

He walked out of the building, hands shoved into his jacket pockets and guitar slung across his back, glancing at the sky. It was windy now, and the grey clouds threatened to burst any second. He breathed deep, taking in the smell of the oncoming rain.

“Dean?”

He turned towards the sound. “Cas?” his voice was incredulous. “What’re you doing here?”

The boy shifted, his face pink, his eyes wandering over Dean’s face. “I heard that something happened…” he trailed off.

“Yeah, I got your text,” Dean said, moving a bit closer to hear Castiel a bit better. 

“I was worried. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Dean blinked. That was really nice of him, but why did he care so much?

“I’m okay, Cas,” he said, his voice somber.

Cas’ shoulders visibly relaxed, some of the tension disappearing at those words. “And...what about your mother?” He started fiddling with his hands, feeling like he had no right to be concerned.

“She’s better. For now at least,” Dean muttered the last part, not wanting his mind to go down that dark path. He forced a small smile on his face. “Thanks for asking, Cas.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth quirked up, his eyes going to the ground. A thought occurred to Dean. “How’d you get here anyways?”

Cas rubbed the back of his neck. “I may have uh, stolen Gabriel’s car,” he confessed, his awkwardness making Dean smile genuinely for the first time since his mother crashed. 

“I didn’t know you could drive,” he said.

Castiel rolled his caribbean blue eyes. “Just because I  _ don’t  _ drive doesn’t mean I  _ can’t _ , Dean.”

Dean chuckled, feeling lighter than he had in awhile. He looked up at Cas, the soft smile still in place.

“You wanna get out of here?”

………………….

Castiel slurped at his milkshake, looking out the window at the ever darkening sky. It had started to rain, but the two boys had made it inside the small shop before the downpour hit. 

They were in a small ice cream parlour. Cas never really understood why people would crave ice cream when it was cold out, like it was today, but he willingly participated.

He looked at the other side of the booth when he heard a soft snicker. He raised his eyebrows, which only made Dean’s smile wider. “What is it, Winchester?”

Dean put his elbow on the table, staring Cas down with those magnetic green eyes. “You’re acting like you’ve never had a milkshake before. Slow down, or you’re gonna get a brainfreeze.”

Cas smiled at him, appreciating his concern. He played with the straw of his drink while leaning back against the booth. His lips pursed as he watched Dean, who was playing with his sundae rather than eating it.

“Dean… You okay?”

“...Yeah, Cas. I’m fine.” But Cas narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, not quite believing him. 

“Hurry up and finish your sundae,” he demanded, going back to slurping his milkshake.

Dean looked up and blinked at him, his jaw slack. Cas could feel himself blushing; those eyes were so bright and those lips were so lush and full. He would have liked nothing more than to reach across the table and pull Dean in for a kiss, but he controlled himself, not wanting to live through another extended period of time without him like last time.

Once Dean was finished, Cas stood and led the way out of the shop, stopping under the awning before the wall of rain, feeling the chill from the water in the air. Throwing a grin at Dean over his shoulder, he dashed out, becoming soaked within a matter of seconds. Dean rushed past him, beating him to the car.

“Dude c’mon, let me in!”

Cas slowed, that grin still in place. He stopped a few feet away from the car, laughing at Dean’s annoyance.

“Cas, open the damn doors, it’s freezing!”

Cas smiled as he sauntered over to the car, digging the keys out of his pocket. He walked over to the passenger door, Dean moving to the side for him. He stuck the key in it’s slot, about to turn it to pop the lock, when he turned to Dean. 

“I dunno. I kind of like you like this, all dripping wet,” he crowded closer to Dean, who blinked and started turning red, but Cas couldn’t help himself. It had been too long since he had spent time with Dean.

Dean bent his head, not meeting Cas’ eyes. But to his surprise, Dean moved closer, and his voice was low and husky when he spoke. “Ya know, I talked to my mom about you.”

Dear God, he looked perfect; rain matting his hair to his head, dripping off his nose, running down the contours of his neck and under that shirt… Cas jerked his eyes back to Dean’s face, to see that hypnotic green watching him with a smirk. Cas’ eyes fluttered as he tried to remember their conversation.

“Oh really? And what… What exactly did you say?” His own voice had gotten lower, and he cursed himself. He really couldn’t control what this boy did to him. 

Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas’ lips, making a rush go through him. “She said,” he muttered, moving closer. “That I should go after what makes me happy.”

He closed the distance, giving Cas a quick, chaste, kiss. It took everything Cas had to not slam Dean against the car and press himself against that great body right then and there; he was trembling from the effort. Dean must have noticed, because he gave a soft chuckle.

Cas furrowed his brow, trying to connect the dots. “Um… Wait. I-I--”

“Cas,” Dean said, cutting him off. “I’ve never done this type of thing before, but you make me feel more alive than I’ve felt for a long time. I’m… I’m willing to, uh... give it a...shot. Um...Cas?”

“Hmm?” 

“You’re distracting me.”

Cas smiled before he placed another kiss against Dean’s neck. He had moved in closer while Dean had been talking, and he loved feeling the vibrations just as much as he loved listening to Dean’s voice. He pulled back, albeit reluctantly. He couldn’t be happier right now.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice sheepish but his smile giving him away. Dean blushed and turned his face away, scoffing as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“You realize we’re both crazy, right?”

Cas nodded. “Yeah, but that’s the best thing to be. Now come on, we’ll go to my place to dry off.”

“And give Gabriel his car back?”

“Yeah, maybe that too.”


	10. Midnight Show

By the time they arrived at Cas’ house, the rain had turned into a complete downpour; the sheets of rain had made it nearly impossible for Cas to see the road he was driving on. He had driven so slowly through the sudden floods on the streets that their clothes had begun to dry, sticking uncomfortably to their bodies.

“If this keeps up, you may just have to stay the night,” he had jokingly said.

Dean had scratched at his chin, his gaze focused on the weather outside. “Yeah, that’s not a bad idea…” He grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Hey Sammy. You still with Mom? ...Yeah, okay. Listen, I’m with Cas right now, he showed up before the rain hit. I’m thinking if it doesn’t let up I’ll just stay the night…” His face began turning red. “Sam, no... Would you stop laughing? Nothing’s going to happen!” Dean rolled his eyes and Cas couldn’t help but smirk. “...Would you quit being such a smart-ass? Jeez… Yeah, the Impala is still there. Drive safe, okay Sammy? I’ll talk to you later. Oh, and Sammy? You scratch my car I’ll kill you.” He hung up and sighed. “Man, consider yourself lucky you don’t have any younger brothers.”

Cas now looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, a small smile on his face at the memory. He had changed into a pale t-shirt and blue sweatpants. He toweled off his hair before gathering the rest of his soaked clothes. Hugging the heap to his chest, he opened the door and padded his way to the laundry room, dumping them in a hamper for later. He then softly went up the stairs and down the hall to his room, knocking softly on the door.

“Dean?”

“Come on in, Cas,” said his voice, low and soft, muffled through the door, making the blue-eyed boy smile softly.

Cas opened the door and froze, his eyes going wide. Dean’s bare back was facing him. Thankfully, Dean was preoccupied, so he couldn’t see Cas’ face as he ogled the muscles and contours of his back. Dean was rubbing at his neck, making the muscles of his shoulder move, and Cas began to feel weak. He wanted to press himself against that softly glowing skin and whisper into Dean’s ear, but somehow managed to keep himself under control.

Though Dean had said that he was willing to give this a shot, that didn’t exactly mean that he would want to go the same pace as Castiel. Cas would respect his space, however painful it was for himself, until he figured out the pace Dean was comfortable with.

“Cas, you’re so scrawny I don’t think anything you have is gonna fit.” Dean chuckled, turning his head to see a blushing, wide-eyed boy. He smirked. “Nice hair, Casanova.” He turned to Cas, now showing his bare torso, making Cas swallow--hard. He tried not to stare, he really did, but he had to force his gaze away from that chiseled chest to something less distracting; but met with Dean’s green gaze instead, which was just as distracting, if not more.

_ Damn, I just can’t win with this guy,  _ Cas thought. Finally able to avert his gaze, he wandered over to his open closet and chest of drawers, trying to ignore the toned body just behind him.

“Lemme see if I can find something,” he said, glad that Dean could no longer see his fierce blush. He breathed out, tossing all sorts of clothes aside, until he found a pair of green plaid fleece bottoms, and a large, gray t-shirt.

He stood, determined to not make eye contact with anything…  _ distracting _ , and held them out to Dean. “You can try these,” he said, proud of himself when his voice only squeaked a little.

Dean reached out and took the clothes slowly, watching Cas’ face closely. “Thanks… You okay there Cas?”

His head jerked up at his name. “Yep,” he said, surprising even himself with how confident he sounded. But as soon as blue met green he started blushing again. He rushed past Dean, not wanting to do something he might regret. “Go ahead and change; I’ll be downstairs.” He closed the door behind him, still feeling the heat of Dean’s gaze on his back. He tilted his head back against the door as he sighed and closed his eyes.

Cas wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself in control around Dean; it was getting harder every time he saw him.

He made his way downstairs, deciding to play the Butterfly Waltz; not to replace anything bad, like he usually did, but to distract him from the temptation that was Dean Winchester.

……………………

Dean struggled to change, the clothes Cas gave him still being a bit small for his larger frame, though they were easier to get into than the others he had tried.

He laid his clothes out to dry on the floor before turning to leave the room. When he opened the door, the soft sounds of a piano waltzed in, giving Dean a feeling of peace and calm with its’ light melody.

He padded his way down the hall and towards the stairs, lightning flashing through the windows, a roll of thunder following close behind. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he turned and slowly followed the sound of the piano to a large, open room. It was dimly lit, with one lamp in the corner offering a warm, yellow glow in contrast to the soft moonlight shining through the many windows onto the hardwood floor.

Cas was seated at the largest piece of furniture in the room; a massive, white colored piano with golden trimmings, and though Dean couldn’t see his face, he could tell that his eyes were closed as he played, lost in the music. Dean leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms and ankles as he listened, the current song Cas played too soon coming to an end. 

It wasn’t long after the song ended that he heard Cas huff out a sigh and begin to play another tune, this one soft as well, but less playful, more...nostalgic. It was longer, and seemed to create a bubble in the room, around the two boys, casting them in a separate world.

Dean marveled at the way that Cas played; each note had its’ own weight, carrying the song forward, yet, though they were all impactful, they were all soft and gentle, echoing clearly across the open space of the room. The only thing he could think to compare it with was having a person give a caress with your eyes closed; how you could feel the other person’s presence heavy in the room, but their touch was feather-light, barely discernable, that small and simple kind of touch having a much bigger meaning.

Dean’s eyes closed as he listened, his foot subconsciously moving to the slow beat that Cas created. He decided then and there that he would never grow tired of hearing Castiel play; though this was only the second time since they met each other. Cas breathed a life into the pile of wood he sat in front of, and Dean admired his ability to do so, though he was a little envious.

The song softly ended, and Cas slowly brought down his hands in the silence, nodding his head like he was satisfied with what he had just done.

When the silence carried, and it didn’t look like Cas was going to continue, Dean interjected. “You should play some more.”

Cas jumped a little at the sound of his voice and whipped around on the bench. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to freeze, blinking and turning red. Dean’s breath hitched as Cas’ eyes roved over his body, probably taking in the tightness of the shirt and the low hanging pants, a small strip of skin making an appearance every now and then between the pairing whenever he moved a certain way.

“H-how long have you been there?” Cas asked, clearly trying to keep his eyes on Dean’s face; and epically failing.

“Probably longer than you’d like.” Dean grinned, remembering that day behind the school when Cas had found him with his guitar. He scratched at his chin as he sauntered over to the bench. “Don’t know why you’d be embarrassed though. I could hear you from upstairs anyway.” He met those eyes that made his heart stutter, and motioned for Cas to move over. “You should play some more,” he said as he sat down. “I wanna see the master at work.”

Cas, who had been watching Dean’s face the entire time, looked away with a blush, a smile brightening his face. “Fine, but only because those two didn’t work,” he said, making Dean blink in confusion. 

Cas looked up again and curved his fingers over the keyboard, pausing before he began to play. He cleared his throat. “The first two pieces of this one time only, exclusive midnight concert were: the Butterfly Waltz, and A Candlelight Waltz. Thinking off the top of my head, the next piece will be...” he continued, his eyes moving and squinting in thought. “One of Brahms’ Waltzes. Number 15, adapted for the piano.”

Dramatically clearing his throat once more, he once again flourished his hands over the keyboard before gently curving them over the gleaming keys, making Dean smile.

Cas began to play, the tune soft and slow, but still playful with staccato chords making an appearance every now and then. Dean was mesmerized by Cas’ hands gliding over the keyboard, but the song was soon finished, being only about a minute long. Cas quickly removed his hands and turned to Dean, a small smile on his face. 

“Wait...that’s it? That’s all you’re going to play?” Dean couldn’t believe that a song that beautiful could be that short. 

Cas’ smile only grew. “That was the end of the song, Dean.”

“Well then I demand an encore,” Dean straightened and crossed his arms, staring Castiel down. Cas squirmed, but didn’t look away.

“Alright,  _ fine _ ,” he huffed with a roll of his eyes. “The audience can make a request for the  _ final _ piece.” he gave Dean a look, emphasizing the words he spoke.

Dean thought, his eyes wandering around the room. “How about… Clair De Lune?”

Cas considered it and nodded, once again putting his fingers on the keyboard. He began to play, the notes echoing through the empty house.

“What made you choose this one?” Cas asked between the silence of the notes, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“It’s one of my mom’s favorites.” Dean’s voice was soft, and he could see Cas swallow out of the corner of his eye. He watched Cas’ hands wander over the keys as he thought about his mother. 

“She used to play, you know. Before the accident.” He wasn’t sure where this was coming from, but he felt okay with sharing it, like he was safe. “I remember she would play this every night there was a full moon, before tucking me into bed. She even tried to teach me a couple times, but it never stuck,” he smiled at the old memory. “Of course, nothing can beat Hey Jude for her. She was crazy about the Beatles growing up. When she didn't play, she would sing. She’d sing Sam and I to sleep with that song.”

Cas’ fingers slowed as he came to the end of the song, reaching across Dean to reach the keys at the other end of the keyboard. The last notes echoed out into the night, but Cas stayed in Dean’s space, eyes on his face.

“I’m truly sorry about your mother, Dean,” he said softly, and Dean could hear the sincerity in his voice. “I’m really glad that she’s okay.”

“Yeah, me too.” Dean lifted his eyes to find Cas’ steady gaze on his face. “Thank you, Cas. You made today a lot better.”

“I didn’t really do anything, but you’re welcome,” he replied, making Dean chuckle softly.

“Oh, you did more than you think.”

Dean gently pressed his lips to Castiels’ before he could change his mind. This time it was slow and gentle, not just a quick peck like he had done earlier. He had said that he would give this a shot, and he meant it; but he was still a bit confused about whatever it was he was feeling. He pulled away, before Cas could reciprocate and make it more heated, putting a small smile on his face. 

He felt himself blush as he looked at the expression on Cas’ face, a bit shocked that he was the one who had put it there. He abruptly stood from the bench, a hand moving to rub at his neck.

“I’m uh... I’m going to get some water,” he said as he wandered out of the room, feeling bad for leaving Cas, but not yet ready to deal with the level of attraction he felt towards the black-haired, blue-eyed boy.

Cas stayed where he was for at least a minute, trying to calm himself down and think of boring things so he could actually walk straight. It seemed that going slow was going to be harder than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that there are quite a lot of songs in this fic. If you'd like for me to post links to them or something similar, leave a comment and I'll figure out what I can do. Thanks for reading!


	11. Series of Storms

Cas finally wandered into the kitchen, watching Dean aimlessly open one cupboard after another in search of a glass. He turned and saw Cas. “A little help here?” he asked with that infuriating smirk that Cas loved.

Cas sighed as he made his way to the other side of the kitchen, opened a cupboard, and grabbed a glass. With it in hand, he walked over to Dean, getting close before handing it to him. “Here,” he said simply, voice low and husky. Dean swallowed as his green gaze met Cas’ blue. He reached out and took the glass, fingers brushing Cas’.

“Thanks,” he replied, his voice choked. He turned away to walk towards the sink.

Cas gave a victorious smile, doing a mental fistpump. _Finally_ , he was seeing the effect he had on Dean. It was about damn time.

“Did you see the notes for you?”

Cas furrowed his brow. “Notes? What notes?”

Dean turned on the water, waiting for it to cool before he filled his glass. “There’s a couple of notes on the counter.”

Cas walked to the island in the middle of the spacious kitchen, picking up two different sticky notes addressed to him. One was from Missouri, her handwriting neat and organized.

_Castiel,_

_I had to take Gabriel back to his apartment on my way out of town, since you apparently stole his car. I do not approve, and we will talk about this when I get back from my trip. I’ve stocked the fridge, so help yourself when you get hungry._

_Love,_

_Missouri._

The other one could only be from Gabriel. Cas looked at the note, staring at his chicken-scratch handwriting.

_**Castiel, you son of a bitch.** _

_**If you do anything to my car, you are paying for it, you understand? If it has a dent or so much as a scratch in the paint when I see you next, you are dead!** _

Cas smiled at the notes, hearing their voices as he read their separate messages.

“I guess that smile means you’re not in trouble?” Dean asked before taking a sip of his water, leaning against the counter behind him.

Cas huffed out a laugh. “Well, Gabriel might kill me, and I might get grounded for stealing his crappy car, but no, I’m not in trouble.”

“Wouldn’t being killed by your brother count as being in some kind of trouble?” he asked, lowering the glass from his mouth. He crossed his arms, the hand with the glass hanging low, further straining the borrowed shirt he was wearing and distracting Cas. But by this point Cas was getting more comfortable with avoiding those distractions, though it still pained him to do so. In all honesty he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it up.

“Oh please,” he replied with a wave of his hand, moving to Dean’s side of the kitchen. “Gabe is harmless.” He leaned against the counter of the island, opposite of Dean, and supported himself with his hands on the countertop.

Dean smirked and raised his glass once again, taking another pull of water. Cas watched as his throat worked, longing to place his lips there. Dean put his glass down on the counter behind him, crossing his arms when he faced Cas once more.

“So,” he said, trying to fill the void that had appeared. “What now?”

Something stirred in Cas, and he could no longer hold himself back. He stepped up to Dean, crowding his space. “I’m sure we can think of something.” His voice was low and his gaze was intent on Dean’s face, wandering over those many freckles.

Dean’s eyes widened and he blushed, sputtering. Cas leaned in and place a slow, searing kiss on Dean’s mouth before pulling back slowly to stare at Dean’s eyes.

“Look, Dean,” he said, his voice soft. “I know this is a bit...new to you, but I won’t do anything you’re not okay with.” His eyes searched Dean’s face. “Okay?” He gently stroked the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck.

Dean swallowed, his gaze deep and intense on Cas’ eyes. “Okay,” he whispered, still looking nervous when Cas moved in once again. It took a second, but Dean started to respond, pressing his own lips against Castiel’s.

Cas worked slowly, placing his lips softly against Dean’s repeatedly at different angles, kissing his lips full on, kissing the corners of his mouth, before he decided to try something a little more bold.

He placed his hands on the counter, on either side of Dean, and leaned in, slowly getting rid of the space between their bodies. He felt Dean’s tentative hand reach out and lightly place itself on his hip, anchoring him where he was. Cas smiled against Dean’s mouth, using more pressure when he kissed him again, loving how he could feel the give of Dean’s soft lips.

Feeling a bit daring, he sucked Dean’s bottom lip into his own mouth, causing Dean to give a little gasp, his hand tightening its’ grip on his hip. Cas felt encouraged, and ran his tongue along the length of Dean’s captive lip, making him shiver. He let go of the luscious lip and pulled back slightly, smirking in triumph when he heard Dean breathing faster than he had been before.

Dean’s eyes fluttered open, and Cas felt a surging heat in his gut when he saw the green of those eyes and the red of those lips. Before he knew it, Dean grabbed Cas by the shirt with his free hand and crashed their mouths together again, stealing Cas’ breath with a hot, hard, kiss.

Dean straightened off the counter, his added height making Cas tilt his head back. Dean’s hand snaked to Cas’ back, bringing their hips flush while his heated hand stroked the small curve of his spine.

Lighting flashed and thunder boomed, but neither boy seemed to care; they were busy creating their own kind of storm.

Cas had a hand on Dean’s back, the other slowly making it’s way up that chiseled chest to tangle in that glorious hair and hold Dean close.

Dean started becoming a bit more daring himself, teasing Cas with little flicks of his tongue across his lips, making Cas practically beg for more. Everything Dean did to him just escalated in his gut, and he could tell that he had a bulge growing and wanting attention.

Dean suddenly delved into Cas’ mouth, taking him by total, though not unpleasant, surprise. He worked that tongue, making Cas moan and lean back with the force of the invasion. Dean followed, not wanting to let him go, and they ended up crashing into the side of the island, the edge of the countertop digging into Cas’ back.

The boys worked each other’s space; hands wandered, occasionally tugging hair or gripping tight, lips sucked, and tongues wrestled, the earlier space completely gone.

Light suddenly flashed through the window, the low, resounding roar of thunder making Dean pull away out of surprise. Cas groaned in protest at the loss of contact. Dean leaned his head down, resting his forehead against Cas’, the boys panting hard as they tried to catch their breath.

Cas moved in and placed one more searing kiss on Dean’s full mouth, as a sort of thank you. This time there was no hesitation when Dean reciprocated.

“Jeez, Dean,” Cas huffed, rubbing his nose against Dean’s. “I like it when you take control like that.”

Dean gave a lazy chuckle. “Yeah, I don’t know what that was. But...it felt good.”

That green gaze locked onto those glowing pools of caribbean blue, and Cas smiled.

Dean grinned back, a gleam in his eye. “So what now?” he asked with a chuckle, making Cas huff out a laugh.

“Hmm… Well, I think it’s my turn to hear you.”

Dean blinked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Whaddya mean?”

“I played for you. I think it’s only fair you play for me,” Cas said with a shrug. “Return the favor.”

“Oh, come on. Really? We could play videogames, watch a movie... _any_ thing else.”

“Dean, the power’s out.”

Dean leaned back and took in his surroundings. The kitchen had been dimly lit with yellow light when they first came into the room, but now it was practically black, the only glow coming from the window as moonlight found a way through the clouds.

“Oh.”

Cas snickered, his mouth hitching up at the corner and drawing Dean’s gaze to it.

“Help me set up the candles, and then it’ll be your time to shine.”

Dean sighed, and Cas gently patted his shoulder as he moved past him, making his way to the pantry.

………………….

“I can’t believe you’re actually making me do this,” Dean said as he lit one of the many candles they had spread throughout the room.

Cas glanced at him before returning his gaze to the small batch of candles he was lighting himself. “Whining about it won’t get you off the hook, you know. Besides, what do you have to be nervous about? It’s just me.” Cas put down his candle before blowing out his match and looking at Dean. “You’ve played on a stage in front of dozens of people. I don’t see how playing for just me is much different.”

Dean shifted, not sure where to look. “It’s _because_ it’s just you,” he muttered low. Cas moved closer, his face a bit shocked. “I hardly ever play by myself in front of others,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I actually try to avoid it.” He finally met Cas’ gaze.

“So then what was that day behind the school?” he asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand.

Dean sighed and crossed his arms, not being able to keep still. “I thought I owed you for when you played in the auditorium. And…” he rubbed his neck. “You’re kinda the reason why I started writing originals again. It was a type of payback.”

Cas smiled his crooked smile, making Dean’s heart skip a beat. “I was why you started writing again?” His cheeks were turning pink.

Dean nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, since I met you on that bus.”

Cas leaned in and gave Dean a quick peck. “I never pegged you for a hopeless romantic.”

Dean could feel his cheeks heat up. “Shut up,” he said, looking away.

Cas grabbed onto one of his hands and tugged him to the couch. “Okay, it’s show time.”

“Cas, I just don’t--”

“Dean, it’s fine. I’ll be totally quiet, I promise. Just pretend I’m not here.” Cas flopped down onto the couch and patted the space next to him.

Dean rolled his eyes, padding over to the door to grab his guitar. He had brought it in with him when they made a mad dash to the house in the sheets of rain, but now he was thinking he might regret it.

He walked back into the living room and perched himself on the edge of the cushion. He couldn’t see Cas from this position, who was laying back against the couch beside him, so maybe he could actually get away with pretending he was the only one there. He put the body of the guitar in place, leaning over it slightly as he began to absentmindedly strum the strings. He stared intently at the flame of a candle sitting before him on the coffee table, trying to pick what song to play.

Before he knew it, his hands had started playing of their own accord, and he just let them lead, choosing a song that felt connected to this moment of calm. One hand chose the chords, easily sliding up and down the neck of the instrument while his other hand beat against the strings, creating a soft and soothing rhythm that filled the empty silence of the house.

_“Remember when our songs were just like prayers, like gospel hymns that you called in the air. Come down come down sweet reverence, unto my simple house and ring, and ring…”_

Dean had closed his eyes at this point, letting the song wash over him. He loved feeling the vibrations from the strings against his hands, loved hearing how they echoed into the air. But most of all he loved that he was the one that was creating this moment.

_“Ring like silver ring like gold…”_ Dean’s voice grew in volume and his hand strummed with a bit more force, making the song swell, but the dynamic soon faded with the last of the chorus as he went back to thumbing the strings softly.

He heard thunder in the distance, softly contradicting with the guitar chords. He opened his eyes and got caught on the flickering flame of a candle, watching its’ light. It seemed to sway, as if it were dancing to the music Dean created with his hands and voice.

_“Now I’ve been crazy, couldn’t you tell? I threw stones at the stars but the whole sky fell...”_

Dean began swaying, a foot tapping to the beat as he continued. His eyes were closed as he tilted his head back, letting his voice ring out. He moved his body with the music, letting it direct his movements with its’ soft flow of sound. His hands easily changed chords with the melody, reaching across the different lengths of the fretboard, feeling the resistance of the strings until he coaxed the sound from them. His voice was in unison with the chords, the story the words told echoing into the open space.

_“And you sent me back to where I roam, well I cursed and I cried but now I know, now I know…”_

He bent over the guitar once again, his head nodding in time. His voice continued to sing, low and soft, weaving in between the chords his hands brought to life, the two of them harmonizing and working together. His voice may be telling the story, but his hands created the emotion. Two separates coming together to create one individual thing.

_“Ring like crazy ring like hell, turn me back into that wild haired gale. Ring like silver ring like gold, turn these diamonds straight back into coal.”_

The song had ended, but Dean continued playing, adding a few of his own riffs to the the tail end of the song. He ended with a low strum across the strings, the sound ringing and pleasant to his ears. He smiled, wanting this feeling to go on forever.

But the effects of the song started to fade, and he remembered where he was, blinking. He felt his face heat up. He cleared his throat as he turned to a wide-eyed Cas, those blue eyes shining while his jaw was slack.

“So… How’d I do?” he asked, fiddling with his hands over the curves of his guitar.

Cas practically pounced on him, smashing his mouth into Dean’s, taking him by complete surprise. Dean inhaled and closed his eyes, taking in the smell that surrounded Cas; sharp and clean, making Dean think of rain, like the storm still raging outside.

Dean reciprocated the kiss, pressing his mouth against Cas, feeling the give of his lips. He slowly moved to put his guitar on the ground, not wanting to let go of that divine mouth and the sinful things it was doing to him.

Cas followed him down, his hands reaching around Dean’s hips. Dean moved to come back up, only Cas wouldn’t let him. Instead, he gently pushed Dean down the rest of the way so he was lying on the couch, moving to straddle him. Dean relented, not seeing much choice, but he was still nervous. He reluctantly pulled away.

“Cas-”

“Dean, it’s okay.” Cas smiled down at him, his eyes soft and glowing. He was already breathing hard. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to. We’re going at _your_ pace. Okay? You call all the shots, and I’ll listen.” Dean shifted at the gentleness in his voice and gave a hesitant nod. Cas gave a soft smile as he moved down to place kisses against Dean’s neck. He turned to give him better access, not being able to control himself when he gulped at the feel of Cas’ warm breath. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling. “You get to tell me what you want,” Cas huffed, sounding like he was having a hard time controlling himself, despite his earlier promise. Dean couldn’t help but smile. He liked the thought that he drove Cas crazy.

His hands moved to grasp at Cas’ hips, not needing much direction. Cas moved to attend to Dean’s lips once more, lightly pushing and gently sucking, slowly coaxing that mouth open. Dean’s hands languidly wandered as his mind went blank, letting Cas work him over. They skimmed over Cas’ slender frame, taking in and admiring how firm he was before one wrapped around Cas’ back, pulling him closer, while the other snaked its’ way into that soft, thick, black hair.

Cas’ hands were also wandering, giving Dean hot sparks that ran through his body to gather in his gut. They played with his hair and traced his chest, gingerly going lower on his abdomen, the heat inside Dean growing with every touch. Dean stopped him when he reached his waistband, the heat inside him fluctuating in a way that scared him.

“Not yet,” he hushed, fervently reattaching his mouth to Cas’, who gave a groan. Dean couldn’t tell what it meant exactly, though he could guess it was out of frustration more than anything else. He smirked and thanked Cas with a flick of his tongue, making the other boy shiver above him.

Cas’ hands slowly went back to work, playing with the hem of Dean’s borrowed shirt. His fingers tickled the skin just underneath. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice husky, clearly distracted. Dean hummed in consent against his mouth, and soon felt those fingers lightly tracing his body, making his muscles twitch in pleasure. The shirt became bunched as Cas let his hands wander farther up Dean’s body. But it wasn’t allowing him the access he wanted, so he pulled back.

“Dammit Dean, lemme take the shirt.”

“Sorry,” Dean chuckled, helping Cas remove the restricting shirt. It wasn’t until he was bare before Cas that he felt a bit self-conscious. But Cas didn’t see that, he was distracted by the glowing map of Dean’s skin, his eyes roaming hungrily. Cas once again smoothed his hands over Dean, the heat from Cas’ skin creating a friction over his own that made Dean tilt his head back with a contented sigh before Cas once again took his mouth.

Dean placed his hands back on the body above him, tentatively moving a hand underneath Cas’ shirt, loving how soft his skin was. One of Cas’ thumbs suddenly smoothed its’ way over one of Dean’s nipples, making him give an open-mouthed moan, which Cas took advantage of and delved into Dean’s mouth, the two of them sharing a breath.

One of Dean’s legs dangled off the couch, which Cas also took advantage of, sneaking his knee in the open space, slowly inching inward. Dean gasped when it suddenly reached his groin with a firm rub, blinking and looking up at Cas, his face flushed. Cas blinked back, trying to clear his head out of the haze he was in.

“Sorry,” he huffed, abruptly sitting back, putting some distance between the two of them. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands, his face scrunched in what Dean thought was embarrassment. “That was a bit fast, wasn’t it?”

Dean sat up, struggling to calm the fire Cas had created inside of him. “Cas, it’s okay,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair while he supported himself with the other.

“No, it’s not,” Cas argued, moving to the other side of the couch. “I got all hot and bothered and carried away. Wait a sec...” He paused, suddenly turning to Dean with a skeptic look in his eyes. “Is it possible that my Dean Winchester is... a virgin?”

Dean flushed and wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Dude, you’ve gotta be kidding me! Really?”

“Shut up,” was all Dean could utter.

“How is it possible that you’re still a virgin?”

Dean finally turned to Cas, his expression bored. “I never made it that far,” he said simply.

“What? Why?”

Dean glared at Cas, clearly not wanting to talk about this, but relented anyway. “Because I guess I swing a different way than I thought,” he said, turning away again, his face flushed once more.

Cas stared for a minute, stunned. “Oh. Well hot damn.”

Dean smiled at that. Rain still pounded against the house, sounding more calm than it had been earlier. Thunder rolled in, filling the momentary silence. Suddenly the room was filled with light, the power flashing back on.

“Crap,” Cas stated, his voice carrying frustration in that one word.

“Cas? What’s wrong?”

The boy turned to him, resting his head on his hand. “We have school tomorrow, don’t we?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“It looks like we’ll only get three hours of sleep.”

Dean rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh, flopping back down on the couch, feeling defeated. Tomorrow was going to be difficult.


	12. Unexpected Change

Dean yawned, using his hand to cover it as he gave a bored glance at the whiteboard, the teacher’s voice monotone and the topic uninteresting. He rubbed his eyes, just trying to stay awake, and it was only first period. Today was going to be hell. He heaved a heavy sigh as he caught Charlie eyeing him again.

She had been doing that the entire morning since they met up, and it was grating Dean’s nerves. But whenever he glanced back at her she would always turn forward with a straight face. Then again, she kept fidgeting, which was always a dead giveaway that something was on her mind.

He hung his head as he gave in. “Okay Charlie, spill. What’s up?” he said, turning to give her his full attention.

She turned to him, her amber eyes suspicious as they looked him up and down. She pointed to his neck. “Is that a hickey?”

Dean blinked, completely startled. “What!? No! No, I… I uh, bumped my neck when I was working on one of Bobby’s cars,” he sputtered, rubbing at his neck with a fierce blush, as if that would make the mark go away. Damn. How had he not noticed that Cas had given him a hickey?

His mind went back to the morning. He and Cas had eventually made it up the stairs and into Cas’ bed, teasing and swapping kisses as they stumbled on their way. They had fallen asleep in each other's arms, though the temptation to do otherwise was strong for both of them. 

Bon Jovi’s  _ Bad Medicine _ had slowly filled the room, growing in volume until it roused Dean, making him wrinkle his brow. He did his best to ignore it, groaning as he put his face in his pillow, trying to deny the existence of the alarm. He heard a soft sigh beside him and smiled. He felt a feather-light touch on his bare back, the tingles making him hum in pleasure.

Cas started to softly sing along to the song, and Dean turned his head so he could peer at that handsome face, the sun caressing those closed eyes and sharp cheekbones. Dean huffed a laugh. “You’re not gonna turn that off?”

“I like this song,” Cas said with a shake of his head. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Dean muttered, rising up and over Cas in order to reach the alarm. Turning it off he said; “Bon Jovi rocks, but only on occasion. And this,” he looked down at Cas below him; “Is not one of those times.”

Cas smiled up at him, a blush on his cheeks and light shining in his eyes. He moved a hand to the small of Dean’s back and tugged him down, making their hips flush. He grazed at Dean’s collarbone and neck, his breath warm and making Dean sigh. “Well then I guess your taste in music isn’t as refined as you claim it to be.”

Dean closed his eyes and turned his head, giving Cas more room to work his magical mouth over his skin. “Hmm. I’m not sure others would agree that Bon Jovi or AC DC is ‘refined’, by any definition of the word.”

Cas hummed in acknowledgement, his focus on the glorious skin he was playing with.

Dean opened his eyes, his line of sight drawn to the alarm clock. “Crap. Cas, we gotta go.” He reluctantly rolled off of Cas and out of bed, walking over to his things still on the floor.

Cas chuckled as he sat up. “Well. I have to say I could get used to a view like that.” Dean could feel those eyes roaming his backside as he crouched, making him blush. At some point during the night he had taken off the borrowed pants, claiming that they were both too restricting and too hot, which left him only in his boxer briefs; the shirt from earlier not being replaced after their time spent on the couch.

“Oh, shut up,” he said as he reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head as he stood. “Now would you get your ass outta bed? We’re gonna be late.” He heard Cas sigh and climb out of bed as he stepped into his jeans.

Dean jumped as Cas pressed against him from behind, arms wrapping around his waist. “Dean, we have time,” he whispered, his breath tickling along Dean’s neck with the ghost of his mouth. “Just five. More. Minutes,” he breathed, gracing Dean’s neck with soft, open-mouthed kisses between words. Dean couldn’t help but close his eyes and tilt his head at the sensation.

He groaned, not wanting it to stop, but he couldn’t afford to be late today. He had a test that he was seriously unprepared for, he still had to turn in a stupid paper, and Lucifer had called yet another, most likely unnecessary,  band meeting. But then there was Charlie. If he were late, she would suspect something, and he wasn’t quite sure what to call Cas and his relationship. How was it that he forgotten all the things he had to do?

“Cas,” he whined, reluctantly stepping out of the embrace. “As much as I love your mouth, I really can’t be late today.” He grabbed his socks and shoes, perching on the edge of the bed to put them on.

Cas interrupted, moving aside his shoes as he kneeled in front of him, those blue eyes glowing with a dangerous gleam. He leaned in close, his hands on Dean’s thighs, making Dean gulp with a fierce blush staining his cheeks. “I’m sure we can spare just five measly minutes, Dean,” Cas hummed, his mouth just centimeters away. Dean couldn’t move, and closed his eyes when Cas finally placed his mouth on his own, giving a soft sigh as he caved. 

Dean’s hands moved to gently grasp at Cas’ waist, their mouths dancing for dominance. Cas’ hands slid up those thighs to cup Dean’s hips, tugging at him to move closer.

“Castiel!” called a sing-song voice, breaking apart the two boys. “Castiel you get down here or you’ll be late!”

“Damn, I guess Missouri’s back,” Castiel mumbled, obvious frustration in his voice.

Dean blinked, trying to get his mind out of the haze Cas had created. “What happened to those five minutes?”

Cas sighed and looked away, his face flushed. “Yeah, about that. I lied.” He didn’t sound the least bit apologetic.

They had taken their breakfast on the go, and had barely made it before the bell rang, (mainly because the roads were practically covered in sheets of ice) just in time to meet up with Charlie, who was immediately suspicious, her eyes moving from one to the other and back.

And now here he was, stuck in class with her, no escape for the next 45 minutes, and she had all but stated that Dean had slept with Cas.

She smacked his hand away from his neck and pulled the collar of his shirt down, exposing the mark in its’ entirety. “Huh, that’s funny. Because it’s such a perfect circle. And,” she continued, pulling on his shirt more. “You have more than one.” She sat back, arms crossed as a triumphant smile took over her face. “Not to mention you’re wearing the same outfit as yesterday. What’s up with that, Winchester?”

“Ms. Bradbury, I’d appreciate your attention up here,” called their teacher, his face worn and clearly not amused.

“Sorry Mr. H,” she called. She sat still, but it wasn’t long until she turned back to Dean. “Dude, it’s killing me. I  _ need _ the details.”

Dean sighed. “Charlie, not now, okay?”

She leaned closer, doing her best to look like she was paying attention instead of driving Dean closer to the brink of insanity. “It was Cas, right?”

Dean objected, but his blush said otherwise. Charlie grinned. “I  _ knew  _ it!” she cried, earning a glare from their teacher.

“Ms. Bradbury, one more outburst and I’ll keep you after class.”

“My bad, Mr. H,” she supplied, doing her best impersonation of Sam and his puppy eyes. But no one could beat Sam, and the teacher just rolled his eyes as he turned back to the board. She turned back to Dean, her voice lowered. “I have to say, I’m happy that it finally happened.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible Dean, but you really suck at reading people. I mean, the sexual tension has been driving the rest of us  _ nuts _ . Even Hannah of all people could see Cas pining after you for weeks.” Her voice softened at the name and she had a tint to her cheeks. “So. Did you get down and do the dirty?”

Dean put his head in his hands, in denial that this conversation was even happening. “No,” he muttered, barely audible. 

Charlie looked disappointed. “Hmm. Well, at least you had some serious make out sessions. You really needed it,” she said with a wink and a friendly elbow in his side. Dean gave a tired smirk in reply. 

But it didn’t end there. Charlie kept poking and prodding him for more and more information, wanting every detail.

“So whose place was it?”

Dean sighed, not seeing much point in trying to fight it anymore. “Cas’s,” he mumbled.

“And did you both meet up or what?”

“He showed up at The Terrace, saying he was worried about me.”

Charlie paused, her face growing pale. “Oh gosh. Did something happen, is Mary okay?”

Dean turned to her, confused. “You mean Sammy didn’t tell you?” Charlie shook her head. “Our mom’s lungs seized up.” His voice was quiet, his mom being a bit of a sacred subject for him. “She’s now hooked up to machines that breath for her. She’s just getting worse, Charlie, and I can’t do anything about it.” His frustration was clear as he rubbed his hand over his face. Charlie reached out and smoothed her hand over his back.

“Dean, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault Charlie, so don’t apologize. It was that drunk idiot’s fault.”

“Still. Let me know if I can help, okay?”

Dean gave a small smile and nodded. They sat in companionable silence for the rest of the period, the bells ringing shortly afterwards. They said their temporary goodbyes in the hallway, heading their separate ways, Dean’s thoughts still filled with worry. He hoped Cas was having a better day.

………………………..

“Guys, I’m leaving the band.”

Everyone stilled, pausing their cleanup as they turned to Lucifer. They had just finished a rehearsal, one of the few they were able to squeeze in during this hectic week. 

Benny rubbed at his chin. “You’ve gotta be kidding, brother. We’ve got a gig this weekend!”

Lucifer looked away, not meeting anyone's eyes. “Yeah, I know. But I just can’t do it anymore.”

Dean finished zipping his guitar into his case, his frustration clear. “How come this is the first time we’re hearing about this?”

“Because I don’t have any other choice.”

“Dude, come on. You’ve always got a choice!”

“I put it off as long as I could! You guys think I  _ want _ to leave?”

Dean blinked, confused. “Well if you don’t want to, then why  _ are  _ you?”

Lucifer sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair. “I’m graduating early.”

“What?”

Lucifer nodded. “Yeah, I got a full ride to a university in California, and they want me to start this coming spring. I’m moving out there by this weekend.”

Benny and Dean could only stare, not believing what they were hearing. 

“Look, I may be horrible for not telling you sooner, but I didn’t leave you without a drummer. I found someone.”

Dean crossed his arms, ignoring the cords and cases still strewn about the stage. “And who, exactly, is this replacement?”

Hesitation flickered across Lucifer’s face. “Crowley.”

“The groupie?” Dean was incredulous.

“Brother, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Benny came closer to the other two, his hands playing with his golf cap. “Don’t tell me you let that psycho groupie take your place.”

Lucifer held up his hands, stopping the flow of protests. “Guys, just give him a chance, okay? He’s actually a really good drummer. Besides,” he continued, shifting as if he were uncomfortable. “You guys shouldn’t be the ones creeped out by the guy. I was the one he’d try to corner after a show.”

Dean chuckled. “That’s right, I forgot about that.”

“He already knows the majority of the songs we cover, plus a few of our originals, so you guys should be good for Saturday night.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. His pale blue eyes flickered between the two boys in front of him, shining with sincerity. “Listen, I’m sorry to do this to you, to the band, but I finally got a chance to get out of this hellhole of a town, and I’m taking it. I just can’t stay here.”

Dean sighed, a hand straying through his hair. “No, I get it. You have to do what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, we understand, brother. But you better keep in touch after you move.” Benny held out his hand for a firm handshake, which Lucifer took gratefully, a small smile on his face. 

“You guys are really the best. Seriously, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Dean clamped his hand down on Lucifer’s shoulder. “Yeah, well, you’re pretty awesome yourself. Now let’s finish putting away all this stuff so we can go home.” He turned from the other two, hiding his apprehension.

What was he going to do now?


	13. Surprise Request

“You’re kidding, he just... _left_?”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean confirmed, using a hand to turn the wheel of the Impala. “He apparently got a full ride to a university in California.”

Sam blinked. “How did someone like him manage to score a full ride? And what about your band? I mean, what’re you going to do this Saturday?”

Cas leaned forward from the backseat. “If it’s any consolation, Lucifer _did_ offer a replacement.”

“Yeah, but the guy’s a creep.” Dean rolled his eyes. “I mean, he’s always wearing that stupid red tie. Every day. Who does that?”

Sam blinked. “Wait. Crowley? Lucifer got Crowley, of all people, to replace him?”

“Yeah…” Dean sighed, feeling worn out. He slowed the car as he turned into the parking lot of The Terrace, eyes roving for a place to park.

He had been right; today had been an absolute trip to hell. The worst thing was that he hadn’t been able to see Cas until after school, since he had been busy at lunch, but now that he was there with he and Sammy, Dean was forced to control himself, which was proving to be more of a challenge than he thought.

Cas had initially asked for a ride home, to which Dean had countered with Cas spending the rest of the day with him, including when they went to see their mother. The day had been one disaster after another for him, and Dean didn’t want to spend the rest of it without Cas. He calmed him down, made things seem better. Or at least more bearable.

Which is why Dean had invited Cas along on their trip to see Mary. They had visited since she crashed, but she looked weaker with every visit, and it was getting to Dean. He couldn’t stop thinking of the inevitable future where they would have to eventually cope without her. He didn’t want that day to come. Ever.

He finally pulled into a free spot, smoothing the car to a stop before putting it in park. Sam opened the door and unfolded himself from the car the second he could; it was always a bit of a tight fit for him and his large frame.

Dean stretched an arm over the back of the seat, turning to Cas.

“So. You ready to meet my mom?” he asked, his face flushing when he saw those beautiful blues staring at him.

“Of course, Dean. She sounds like a wonderful woman.” He threw a smile and a wink at Dean as he clambered out of the car.

Dean spun back around, a soft smile gracing his face. “Yeah. She really is.” He turned off the car and joined the other two boys, strapping his guitar to his back.

………………...

“That...was beautiful, Dean.” Mary smiled, lighting up the room and dispelling the grey from outside seeping in.

Dean smiled and ducked his head, a slight blush on his cheeks. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, his voice sheepish. People often complimented him on his talent, but he’s come to realize that he only really cared about what his mother thought. Though he supposed he’d soon add Cas to that short list.

Sam moved closer to her bed. “How’re you feeling, Mom?”

She turned to look at him, and the simple movement of turning her head was slow, making Dean’s gut twist.

“I’m...fine Sam… Thank you.” She slowly turned to face the newest member of group. “Now. Who… is this...fine-looking...young man?” Her eyes were shining and kind, her smile warm and welcoming.

Cas shifted, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on to stand tall behind Dean, hands shoved in his pockets and a soft pink staining his cheeks.

Dean smiled again, his own cheeks stained and eyes soft. “Mom, this is Cas. He wanted to see you, and I thought you’d like to meet him after, uh...last time.” His face grew more red the longer he talked.

Mary gave a soft chuckle. “It’s nice...to meet you, Castiel.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Winchester,” he replied, his eyes wide.

Though Mary was restricted to her bed and had several tubes and machines connected to her, Cas couldn’t help but admire her beauty. She was pale and weak, but she blossomed, even in these difficult circumstances. He could see where Dean got his persistence.

“Oh, please… No...formalities here... It’s Mary.”

“Then you must call me Cas,” he insisted in turn, his voice kind.

Mary raised her eyebrows, her gaze dropping to Dean. “I...like him,” she said with a smile.

Sam laughed at both of their bright faces. “Man, I am so glad I get to see this.” He chuckled as he sat back in his cushioned chair, folding his arms.

Mary cast a glare at him before returning her attention to Cas. “Dean...tells me that...you play the piano?”

Cas nodded, shuffling his feet. “Yes ma’am, going on 13 years now.”

“Really? That’s quite...impressive. Who...taught you?”

Something flashed in Cas’ eyes, and he paused before answering, his voice gone soft. “My mother.”

Mary noticed and gave a knowing smile. “I’m sure...she...was wonderful,” she offered, making Cas give a sad smile and duck his gaze. “Where…have you performed?”

Cas blinked and moved a hand to rub at his neck, suddenly embarrassed, though he knew he shouldn’t be. “Um. I used to go all over the country with my parents. I once performed in Carnegie Hall…” he offered, his voice trailing off.

Mary blinked, clearly impressed. “I’ve always...wanted to go...there. When...did you perform?”

Cas looked at the floor, feeling his cheeks heat up. “When I was six,” he supplied, his voice a bit choked.

Mary’s eyebrows rose again, and Sam stared at him open-mouthed.

Dean turned in his seat, looking up at him with the startling green of his eyes reflecting the light. “Dude, how come I haven’t heard this before?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Because it’s really not that big of a deal.” He waved his hand, as if dismissing the conversation.

“Cas, that’s _Carnegie Hall._ That’s something you should be bragging about.”

“It was over 10 years ago, Dean. It doesn’t matter.”

Dean sputtered, confused at Cas’ lack of pride.

“Well,” Mary said, interrupting. “I...would love for you...to play for...me sometime.”

Cas nodded, meeting her eyes. “Of course. I’d love to perform for you.”

“Excellent,” Mary breathed, her throat working as she swallowed. “Next time...I see you...we’ll have…a concert in the foyer. There’s...a piano there...and Tessa can...wheel my bed there.”

“Do you have anything in particular you want me to play?”

Mary’s eyes moved as she thought. “Sam...isn’t there...a full moon this week?”

Sam smiled, his eyes soft. “Yeah, there is.”

Mary grinned, turning back to Cas. “Well then… I want to...hear Clair...De Lune, a piece...from an upcoming...performance, and...one of your...choice.”

Cas crossed his arms, head tilted back as he thought about the pieces. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Dean turned once more in his chair. “Dude, you’ve already got another performance?”

“Naomi’s already making me practice for the concert in May, remember?” Cas gently offered, and Dean nodded his affirmation.

“Wait,” Mary interjected. “You...have a concert in...May, and she’s...having you...practice now, in… November?”

“Well, to be fair, people from Juliard are coming, and that is one of the schools I’m interested in. My first choice, actually,” Cas said. “She’s just trying to make sure I have the best chance I can get to get in.”

Mary nodded, understanding, but her frown said she didn’t exactly like it. “Well, I may…not agree, but...I do...respect it. I’m sure...you’ll do… wonderfully well, Cas.” She gave him a warm smile.

Sam stood from his seat, making his way to the door. “I’m gonna go tell Tessa our plans, giver her a heads up,” he called, turning the corner outside of the room.

Something caught in Mary’s throat, and she started coughing, making Dean put down his guitar and move closer. He grabbed a towel to wipe away whatever spittle came and clutched her hand.

“Thank you...Dean,” she said, her voice hoarse after her coughing fit.

“You alright, Mom?” he asked, the worry in his voice clear.

“Yes... I’m fine, dear. Could you...get me something...to drink?”

“Yeah, of course.” Dean stood up, stooping to kiss her forehead before leaving the room.

Cas couldn’t help but suspect that this might have been Mary’s plan all along; getting the two of them alone. He realized that the two boys would have left if she had simply asked them too, they were so devoted to her.

“Cas, I’d...like to speak with you,” she said, confirming Cas’ suspicion with her cracked voice. “Will you...come closer?”

Cas shuffled his way across the room to her bedside, slowly sitting in the cushioned chair. He waited for Mary to speak, listening to the sounds of the machines in the room. It seemed whatever she had to say was hard for her to get out.

“Cas, I hope you know...you make Dean...very happy. I...see the way...you look at each...other. I can tell...that...you make a big difference already,” she said, her eyes on Cas’ face.

He could feel himself blushing and ducked his head, a small smile flashing across his face. “Well Mary, your son makes me happy as well.” He lifted his head to see Mary’s gaze flicker, showing something other than the soft and warm kindness from before. Cas felt an uneasiness spark inside himself.

“I’m so...glad.” Mary closed her eyes and swallowed, as if gathering courage for what she was about to say. “Listen Castiel. I...don’t have...much longer.” Her eyes fluttered open to meet Cas’ startled blue gaze. “Soon, I’m going...to be gone. And my boys… They’re going to...need someone. Especially...Dean. He’ll put on a mask, pretend...he’s okay, but he...won’t be. I know...my boys... Cas, he’s going to need you.” Her eyes became watered as she spoke, and her voice was cracking with emotion.

Though his uneasiness grew, Cas reached out and grasped her hand in both of his. He may not exactly like it, but he wanted to put Dean’s mother at ease. His gaze was intent, his voice firm. “Mary Winchester, I promise you that I will be there. For Sam, for Dean. I’ll do everything that I can for them.”

“Thank you, Castiel,” she whispered, a smile back on her face as a tear tracked its’ way down her cheek. “You truly...are an angel. Please...watch over my boys.”

Castiel nodded, reaching out to wipe away her tear with a gentle thumb. “Every day. I give you my word.”

Mary smiled and sighed, closing her eyes. “Thank you,” she said simply. But those two words were full of emotion; gratitude and relief, and they struck at Cas.

Dean came back into the room shortly after, carrying a bottle of water. He froze when he saw how they were sitting; Cas close to the bedside, holding Mary’s hand. His wide eyes flicked to his mother’s face. “I’m not...interrupting an interrogation or anything, am I?”

Mary laughed, her bright smile back in place. “Of...course not, sweetheart. You’re timing...is perfect. We...were running out of topics.”

Cas moved from the chair, opening it back up to Dean, who swiftly took it, unscrewing the cap of the bottle before offering to help his mother with it. Sam soon returned as well, sharing the news that they had Tessa’s full support for the upcoming recital.

Cas returned to his earlier position of leaning against the wall behind Dean, thinking about the conversation he just had with the boys’ mother. He knew of Mary’s situation, Dean had told him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t rattled by her basically giving him her dying wish just now. He would always be there for Dean, Sam too, if he could, but he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that he had. The fact that the small family seemed to be happy and having a good time right now--making jokes, smiling and laughing--just made the whole thing more ominous to Cas.

 


	14. Missouri

Missouri poked her head through the doorway. “Castiel, I know you love that piano, but you’ve been plucking at that thing for over an hour, and you haven’t even eaten breakfast yet.” She moved further into the room when Cas stopped playing but didn’t reply. “Honey, what’s wrong?” She sat down in one of the open chairs, worry blooming in her chest as Castiel still didn’t answer and the silence continued.

“Dean’ll be here soon,” she offered, trying to get his mind off of whatever it was stuck on. Missouri had the ability to read people, often getting a glimpse of their thoughts through touch or body language; it was how she made her living. Normally she’d be able to help Cas and Gabriel with their problems, help them clear their thoughts, but this time was different. Missouri couldn’t see any clear thoughts coming from Cas; all she could see was a thick grey, like a storm cloud was surrounding him.

“Mary asked me to look after Dean,” he hushed, his head bent. Missouri waited to see if he’d offer more; he didn’t.

“Isn’t that Dean’s mother?” she asked. Cas nodded in affirmation, slowly turning on the bench so he could face her. “And what about her request scares you?” she asked, in no way demanding.

Cas sighed and scratched his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really. I guess it’s more that it felt like a kind of death wish from her. It freaked me out a bit.”

Missouri nodded, showing her understanding. “To be fair, you’re already doing it. You treat him well, and don’t think I don’t know that you truly care about him,” she said, her eyes hooded as she watched Cas’ blush heat up his cheeks. “Either way, I don’t think that’s something you need to be worried about. Just do what you’re doing; be there for him when the time comes.”

Cas’ shoulders slumped, and Missouri could see the cloud around him shift, some of the tension gone. But it was still there. “What else is bothering you?” she prodded, her voice gentle and patient. 

“Naomi, for one,” he confided, and Missouri hummed her agreement. He couldn’t seem to meet Missouri’s gaze. “I just think it’s a bit ridiculous that I’m already preparing for a concert that’s 5 months away, and the piece she insists I play…” his voice trailed into the air as he tried to find words to describe it. “I just don’t want to get sick of playing.”

“I can understand that. Naomi is a hard woman to work with.” Cas nodded, a small sigh escaping his body. “If you like, we could try to find a new mentor,” Missouri offered, carefully watching Cas’ face. 

Cas licked his lips as he considered the temptation before shaking his head. “No,” he said defeated, rubbing at his eyes. “It’d throw everything off if we switched now. Plus, Naomi is one of the best in the entire state. She may be hard to work with, but she knows what she's doing.” The cloud around Castiel kept shifting, and Missouri could see that there were still other things bothering him. The boy needed a break. 

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Cas jerked his head up at the sound, the light returning to his eyes. Missouri smiled. “I’ll get the door, you grab somethin’ to eat.” Before she was out of her chair, Cas had bolted out of the room and into the kitchen. She laughed as she made her way to the door. That boy was really smitten with this Dean Winchester.

She reached the door, feeling Dean’s bright presence on the other side. She opened it, and watched, amused at all the expressions that flicker across Dean’s face; a happy smile, surprise, shock, then embarrassment, his cheeks blushing furiously.

“M-Missouri,” he stammered, his wide eyes blinking fast. Missouri could tell he was thinking about the last time, and the first, that they had officially met; when he had stayed the night of the storm. 

The two boys had come down the stairs in the morning, and Cas, being slightly obtuse when it came to reading social cues, casually admitted that the two of them had slept together while they made their breakfast. Dean’s face had been about 50 different shades of red, and he sputtered, his utensils clattering, but didn’t say anything against it. Missouri had only chuckled and continued to give Dean a hard time.

She smiled and opened the door a bit further, giving space for him to enter. “Good morning, Dean. Cas is just grabbing some breakfast.”

Dean hesitated before stepping over the threshold, offering a hushed “Thanks,” and Missouri could tell he felt like this might be a bit of a trap. In a way it was; Missouri wanted to ask him something.

“Dean,” she started after closing the door. “I have a...request, of sorts,” she turned to face Dean and clasped her hands together in front of her. Dean couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting, making Missouri offer a small smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to interrogate you about your relationship with Castiel.” The blush on Dean’s face grew brighter and his eyes dropped from her gaze. “When is your school’s Thanksgiving break?”

She could tell that her question had not been anything close to what Dean had been expecting. “Uh, it’s in the next couple of weeks, ma’am,” he answered, his tone polite.

“And if I remember correct, you only get a couple of days off, right?”

“Yes’um,” Dean nodded, clearly wondering where this was going. “Do you mind if I ask what this is about?”

“It’s Cas,” she said, and she raised her hands as she sensed the worry that grew in Dean. “Nothin’s wrong, I’m just worried about him, is all. He works too hard between school and homework, and with Naomi pushing him like she is…” her voice trailed off and she shook her head, not wanting to go into it. “I just think it’d be nice if he took a break, was able to clear his mind. And I want your help with that, Dean. But we can talk about that later,” she said, and Dean’s look of confusion was quickly wiped off his face as Cas wandered into the room, some remnant of food stuffed in his mouth and an apple in his hand, his backpack hung precariously from a shoulder. Missouri smiled at his ruffled state of apparel. 

“Alright, I’m ready,” he mouthed around the food, somehow making it clear and understandable. He finally stopped messing with his jacket and stood straight, meeting Dean’s gaze. Dean gave a small smile, and Missouri saw the light around him flicker as he took in Cas. She smiled to herself; it was interesting to see the effect that these two had on each other.

A series of honks jumped the two boys out of their trance, and they blinked at each other, making Missouri chuckled. She moved to open the door for them. “You best be off to school. Don’t want you to be late.” Cas walked past her, clutching his backpack as he gave a small wave in farewell. Dean followed close behind, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Dean,” she called, stopping him. “We’ll talk again soon. I have an idea I want to share with you.”

“Hey Dean, we gotta go!” A younger looking boy with long hair leaned out of the passenger window. Dean waved him off, turning back to Missouri.

“I really do have to go, but yeah, I’ll come by sometime to talk. Anything for Cas.” He blinked and blushed, as if just realizing what he said, and turned to leave, rushing down the steps and to the car.

Missouri crossed her arms against the cold, watching as the 67 Impala cruised its’ way down the drive. She smiled and hummed to herself, glad to see that both boys were smitten for the other. 


	15. Performance For Mary

"You ready to play today?" Dean asked as the three of them made their way to the building, shoulders hunched against the cold.

Cas glanced at him, his breath a cloud and his cheeks pink. "Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

Dean gave a smile at his red nose. "Of course not," he answered, turning his gaze ahead.

"I have to say, I'm excited to hear you play, Cas," Sam said, off to the side and holding his own against the chilly breeze. "The way Dean talks about it, I expect some fireworks by the end."

Dean smacked him upside the head, but it only made Sam laugh as Dean's face grew red. "Shut up, Sam. Go tell Mom and Tessa we're here."

"So you guys can have some more alone time?" He stepped out of Dean's reach this time, turning and walking backwards in front of them with a stupidly triumphant grin on his face.

"Actually, yeah. That'd be great, Sam," Cas said, his tone smooth as he slung an arm around Dean. "We were planning on making out before we got inside, mainly so I wouldn't be so horny when I play." He nuzzled into Dean's neck, stopping the two of them, and making Sam's smile falter. "To be honest though, I'm not sure it's gonna work." He started placing kisses on whatever skin he could find. Dean could tell he was blushing something fierce, but he couldn't help his small sigh at the sensation.

"Okay, ew. Way to take the fun out of it, Cas." Sam huffed out a laugh before turning forward and moving once more towards the building. "This isn't over!" he called over his shoulder.

Cas continued to nuzzle into Dean's neck; in the cold, in the middle of the parking lot.

"Uh...Cas?" Dean hedged.

"Hmm?"

"Sam's gone now."

Cas chuckled against Dean's skin. "I know." His voice was dark and daring, making Dean swallow.

"So, you weren't kidding?"

He could feel Cas's smile. "I could never joke when it comes to you, Dean." He placed a few more kisses against Dean's neck. "Unfortunately, we don't really have the time for a serious make out right now." He pulled back, a devilish smirk lighting his face when he saw Dean's expression. "Right now, I have to impress your mother."

Cas yanked on Dean's arm until his hand was free, then intertwined their fingers as he tugged him, speechless, to the doors of The Terrace.

.............................

They met up with Sam, Tessa, and Mary in the large foyer, the dull light of the sun shining through the windows. Mary's bed was wheeled up to one side of the old piano, close to the window, with Sam and Tessa off to the side; Sam rummaging through his backpack and Tessa busy checking Mary's IV bags.

Mary gazed out the glass, her eyes dull and expression heavy, and Dean's heart squeezed with the pain of seeing her like that. No one should look like that, especially not his mother. But she soon heard the sound of he and Cas approaching, and she turned to them, her eyes suddenly lighting up and her smile big and bright. Maybe what he saw was just a trick of the light...?

"Hello, boys! Oh, it's so... good to... see you!" Mary called, her voice soft and warm. Dean smiled as he came closer. She was fine, there was nothing to worry about.

Reaching the bed, he bent down, reaching around his mother and hugging her tightly to him. "Hey, Mom." He pulled back, smoothing his thumb over her cheek. "You look beautiful today." Mary chuckled and rolled her eyes. Yeah, she was fine, nothing was wrong.

"How old is this piano?"

Everyone turned to see Cas gently caressing the top of the faded brown piano. It was a baby grand piano, much smaller than the one at Cas' house. The ivory keys were worn and a bit yellowed, proof of it's old age. The sun gleamed off the wood, making the piano shine. Cas walked around the piano, tracing the curves of the wood with gentle fingers, his eyes fixed and his mouth open. It was a simple, yet elegant design, and Dean smirked at the awe that shone in Cas's eyes.

"That piano has...been here longer than...I have," Mary offered, turning to Tessa. "Any idea...how long it's been here, Tessa?"

The wide-eyed girl shook her head and gave a shrug. "I have no idea, but I'd say about 25 years, maybe more."

Cas gently lifted the top-board off the back of the piano, using the stick to prop it in place, and ducked his head inside, looking at the innards of the piano. "Wow, this is in really good shape!" he called, his voice excited and a tad muffled from the wood around him. "The strings are pretty new, and the hammers aren't worn down as much as I thought they would be." He pulled his head out, peering at Tessa, looking for an explanation.

"Oh, we maintain it pretty frequently. A few of the guests here like to play, try to remember better days. This is the only piano we have, so it gets a lot of use."

Sam had brought over chairs for himself, Dean, and Tessa, which Dean promptly sat in, throwing his backpack to the side and shrugging off his coat.

Cas made his way to the front of the piano, plopping down on the bench with his eyes roving over the keys. Dean wasn't aware of the soft smile on his lips until Sam smacked his arm with a muttered "Get a room". Dean would have smacked him twice as hard, except Mary decided right then to turn her gaze on him. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he could feel his blush deepen and creep to his ears and neck. He shifted uncomfortably, not knowing where to look.

Soft, tinkling sounds began to pour in the room from the piano, as Cas began to play. Dean recognized it, it was the one he played all the time; the Butterfly Waltz. He recalled Cas telling him that his mother would always play it; that it was her favorite. Dean could see why, and though he had never heard Cas' mother play, he thought that if he had the chance, he'd prefer the way that Cas performed it.

The small group hushed and stilled as Cas continued to play through the song, as if it were casting a spell with its' tinkling notes floating through the air.

The song ended, too soon, according to Dean, and the silence stretched until Cas leaned his head back with a soft sigh.

"I think I'm in love," he hummed, soon turning his attention back to the piano before him.

"That was breathtaking, Castiel," Mary hushed, her eyes shining with wonder. "I can't wait to hear the other pieces you're going to play."

Cas sighed again, but this one was heavy. "Yeah, well... This next one may have you rethinking that." He curved his fingers once more and began to play. Dean blinked, the song sounding nothing like what Cas normally plays. It was all discordant notes, the chords coming out ugly and harsh. Dean looked around, noting the surprised and shocked looks on the others' faces as well. The notes were slow and loud, almost hurting Dean's ears with how harsh the chords were as the notes skipped across each other.

The song suddenly changed, the notes coming faster. Cas's hands flew across the keyboard, working their way to the middle just to dance apart. His hands were moving so fast that the notes soon following didn't seem to match the movement. Dean couldn't seem to tear his eyes away; though the song was hard and fast, it had caught him in its' confusing dance of a spell.

The sixteenth and thirty-second notes couldn't seem to make up their minds between being strung together and loud or being staccato and soft. Cas continued to play, but Dean could tell that he didn't like this song; he was pounding at the keyboard with frustration until it finally came to an obnoxious, discordant end, finally releasing its' hold on the group.

"What the hell was that?" Dean couldn't stop himself; that song was nothing like what Cas had played before, and he still couldn't believe that he had just performed it. It just didn't add up in his mind. There was no way that _his_ Cas would actually play something like that.

"That," Cas replied as he swiveled to face the group; "Was Kreisler's _Praeludium and Allegro_ , in the style of Pugnani." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, momentarily distracting Dean with his mussed up hair. "That's the song Naomi has picked for me to play."

"But, can't you just pick a different one?" Sam asked, his brow furrowed as he ran a hand through his own hair, the strands obediently moving to frame his face. Dean mentally rolled his eyes. He had tried several times to get Sam to cut his hair, even offering to do it himself a couple of times, but to no avail.

"Unfortunately, she won't budge. Though I don't like it much, it _is_ a very challenging song, which is a big part of what the judges are looking at in this concert. I just hope that she doesn't make me play it so much that I start to tire of playing," Cas admitted, a hand moving to rub the back of his neck.

"Oh, Cas," Mary said, her voice kind. "I...don't think that...could ever happen. You...love it...too much." She smiled at him, and the tension left over from the song seemed to lift off the shoulders of everyone in the group. "What...are the other...two pieces in...your set?" she asked.

Cas turned toward her, his eyes cast to the ceiling as he thought. "Well, I get to choose those, but I'm not quite sure... I'm thinking a waltz by Brahms and an allegro piece by Mozart."

"Those are both good...choices. Would you...mind playing those...as well?"

Cas smiled an easy smile. "Of course. First the waltz, then Mozart." He turned back to the keyboard, his fingers poised and ready.

He began to play, and Dean was taken aback. He recognized this; it was the one that he had played for him when he had stayed the night. He began blushing furiously as he thought about that night, fidgeting as a smile crept up on him.

Cas coaxed the notes from the instrument, the sounds blending and flowing together, nothing like the harsh melody from earlier. Dean closed his eyes and leaned back, getting caught up in the music, letting it ease away his tension. The song too soon ended, and Dean opened his eyes, but didn't move, giving a small sigh.

Cas soon moved onto the next song, this one being a faster tempo, and very playful. Dean sat up straight, curious, as Cas started the runs across the keyboard, the notes having a fast succession, and once again, Dean marveled at how fast Cas could move his hands across the blacks and whites of the keys. His hands danced, light on their feet, seeming to compete for the melody; the top creating the note runs, while the bottom made a harmonizing theme. It was a bit strange, but it worked wonderfully well and sounded beautiful, right up to the end.

Cas swiveled in his seat once more. "That was Mozart's allegro movement from his K.283 piano sonata. It's actually the song I played when I went to Carnegie Hall." His voice lowered and stuttered as he continued speaking, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. He scratched at his temple, not making eye contact with anyone.

"I know it sounds lame, but you're really good, Cas," Sam offered, his hazel eyes wide as he gaped at Cas.

"Yes...you really...are." Mary concurred. "That...sounds like...a very balanced...set of music. The first...is harsh, but the...other two...balance it out...very nicely. Well...done, Castiel."

"Thank you, Mary," Cas said, meeting her gaze with a sincere voice. "I believe I still have one more song to play, correct? Clair De Lune?"

"Oh, yes please."

"Wait," Sam interjected, leaning forward in his seat. "I, uh... Could we wait a little longer? I mean, the moon's not even out yet."

Dean turned toward him. "Visiting hours are almost up, Sammy. We won't be able to wait for the moon."

Sam bounced his leg, chewing on his lip before he conceded. "Okay fine, I invited Dad." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, meeting Dean's incredulous gaze with ease. "What? I thought it was about time he meet Cas anyways, since you seem to refuse to bring him to the house."

"Sam, Dad works night and day. Did you really think he'd drop it all just so he could meet Cas?"

"Alright boys, that's...enough." Mary looked at them sternly. "It's a shame...that John couldn't...come, but that's okay." Though her voice was firm, there was a hint of sadness shining in her eyes. "He's a busy...man."

"Yeah, but when was the last time we were here as a family? When was the last time he came to visit you, Mom?" Sam pressed, not wanting to let this go.

That seemed to strike a chord, and Mary closed her eyes. "I'd rather...not talk about...this, Samuel." Dean's gut twisted. She had used his full name, something that she never does, not unless she's deathly serious. She opened her eyes once more, the kindness back in place with an easy smile. "I'd much rather...listen to... Cas playing some more." She nodded to Cas, who took his cue and turned again to the piano, clearing his throat as he placed his hands on the keys.

The song began and distracted everyone from whatever tensions they had created. Mary turned back towards the window, watching the last of the sunset, the stars starting to show themselves as she listened to Castiel create the landscape for the coming moon. Though the boys couldn't see it, one of the reasons why she had turned away, a tear escaped from her eye, slowly trailing down her cheek until Tessa stepped in with an empathetic expression as she gently wiped it away. Mary closed her eyes at the touch, another tear escaping as she struggled to take in a deep breath.

She had thought that everything would be fine, that things would continue to be the way they had been for so long. But it seemed that the closer she got to the end, the more change was coming; Dean finding Castiel, and Sam wanting the family to be together once more.

Mary let the music wash over her, whirling with her many thoughts. She loved her boys, her angel and her warrior, they always took care of her, always did what they could, doing their best to hide behind a mask so she wouldn't see how hard this actually was for them. But she could; she was their mother.

She swallowed as she thought of what lay ahead. Though she wish it wasn't the case, things for the family and the Winchester boys were only going to get worse.


	16. Nerves

"Dean, you've gotta calm down," Sam said, his annoyance clear on his face.

"I _am_ calm," he snapped, still playing with the food on his plate.

"Well then quit making an earthquake over there," Bobby said, dishing himself more fried chicken. "You're makin' the whole house shake."

Dean immediately stopped bouncing his leg, the table going still. He did his best to hide the small blush heating his cheeks with a glare. It didn't work. He shifted in his seat and refocused his energy back onto his food, but he couldn't bring himself to eat. Instead he poked at the corn and played with the rice, neglecting the chicken as his mind wandered.

"Dean!"

He jumped. "What?" He looked up at Bobby, surprised that he had yelled his name.

Bobby blinked at him. "You mean to tell me that you didn't hear me the other four times I screamed your name?" He rolled his eyes as he brought another forkful to his mouth. "Whatever's bugging ya, it's doin' a good job." He sat back as he swallowed, his eyes on Dean. "Clean up your dinner and go do somethin'. There's a car in the garage; go finish it up."

Dean was already moving before Bobby was done talking. He hurried about, cleaning off his dishes and cluttering them in a pile in the sink before leaving everyone else to their own devices. "Thanks, Bobby!" he called over his shoulder, rushing through the doorway to the garage.

Sam and Bobby shared a look, then gazed at their guest.

"Hey, don't look at me; I've got no idea what's going through his head," Cas said with a smile, his hands up in mock surrender.

"It is strange that he'd leave you here with us alone... When you're done, you mind trying to get through that thick skull of his?"

Cas nodded. "Of course. But in the meantime," he said, turning back to his food. "I'd like to hear some stories about Dean, if you don't mind." He cast a glance at Bobby, looking all too innocent, especially after making a request like that.

Bobby chuckled in reply, a gleam in his eye.

...........................

Dean laid on his back, looking up at the belly of the car above him. He was focused on the job at hand, his fingers already stained with the grease from the machine. AC DC blared from a radio nearby, and Dean bobbed his head to the beat as he hummed along.

"Dean?"

He jumped at the sound of his name and nearly hit his head, his tools clattering out of his grasp onto the concrete below him. He slung an arm across his eyes as he sighed, trying to calm his racing heart. "Jeez, Cas. How do you manage to appear out of nowhere?"

There was a rustle of movement as Cas crouched to peer underneath the car. "Sorry," he mumbled. Dean lifted his arm and watched as Cas continued to lower himself to the ground, as if he were preparing to get under the car.

"Cas, what're you doing? You're gonna ruin your dress shirt."

Cas shimmied his way under the car, albeit awkwardly. "Yeah? Well then it's a good thing I have more than one."

"Missouri's gonna kill me."

"She won't have time; she'll be too busy cleaning the shirt for my next concert." Cas finally stopped moving and turned to Dean, a crooked grin on his face. Dean gaze softened, and he could feel some of the tension in his shoulders disappear.

"Here," Cas held up one of the tools he had dropped. Dean eyed it before flicking his curious gaze to Cas's eyes. "Don't stop on my account," he said. "It's my turn to watch the master at work."

Dean gingerly grabbed the tool, their fingers brushing. "Thanks," he breathed, and turned his gaze back to the belly of the automobile, getting back to work.

Cas laid his hands on his stomach and crossed his ankles, his feet sticking out from beneath the car. He eyed Dean's hands with admiration, watching them move with confidence and assurance. Those hands certainly knew what they were doing. He moved his gaze up to Dean's face, noting the long lashes, the concentration on his face, and how his lips moved as he mouthed along to the lyrics of the song on the radio.

"So... You kind of left me alone back there." Cas saw the irritation seep into Dean's expression, but he kept pressing. "What's on your mind, Dean?"

Dean sighed, his gaze still on the underside of the car, but his hands slowed. "I dunno, Cas... How was your concert?"

He knew what Dean was doing, but decided to play along. "Eh, it was okay. Lisa did a wonderful job. You should hear her play the violin sometime." He turned his head to face Dean. "Does it have something to do with this weekend?"

Dean didn't answer right away, the muscles in his jaw working. Cas was patient, watching his face. "Yeah," Dean whispered, finally conceding. There was another stretch of silence before he spoke again. "It's just... I'm not sure how this is going to work." His hands dropped from where they worked, but his gaze stayed fixed to the belly of the car. "Benny and I haven't been able to practice with Crowley more than once since Lucifer decided to leave, and we've got a gig tomorrow, and... I just... I don't know if I can do it."

The radio cut to commercial, something about a 'limited-time only' sale at the mall. Dean sighed and reached his hands upwards again, pausing before getting back to work. Cas watched, his mind mulling over what Dean said.

"Don't you guys have a set ready to go for tomorrow?" Cas asked hesitantly.

"Well...yeah, but when we practiced, it was like Crowley didn't know the songs. And then there was the fact that it took half the rehearsal for him to quit fangirling and get some work done. It's just... He's not Lucifer."

Cas hummed his understanding. "I can see how that could be troublesome." His hands began playing with his tie absentmindedly; he hadn't had the time to change after his performance with Lisa. His fingers rolled it up before smoothing it down as he tried to figure out a way to comfort Dean. "I guess the only thing to do...is to play." Dean turned to him, confusion wrinkling his brow. Cas shrugged in reply. "If Crowley messes up, that's his fault. If he screws up, he wasn't doing his part and you'll have to find a new drummer. I guess... you could think of this as his audition. You get to perform with him. Try it out, see if you guys work well, and if not, then you let him go."

Dean slowly nodded, turning again to the underside of the car. "Yeah, makes sense. I just... I want to do well. This is the first time in a while that the band's had a chance to play. I just hope we don't screw it up."

Cas chuckled. "There's no way that'll happen. Not when it comes to you, Dean."

Dean smiled, a blush warming his cheeks. "Thanks, Cas." He lowered his hands and turned toward the other boy, pulling him in to place a peck on his cheek.

................. 

Bobby loaded up a plate and headed out to the barn in the back. When he opened the door, the stench of alcohol and body odor made him pause and wrinkle his nose. The sunlight chased away the darkness before him, dust dancing in the air.

"John?" he called into the dark.

There was a groan from somewhere inside, and Bobby sighed before stepping in. He was worse than he thought. But then again, why should he be surprised? This had happened before; it happened every time something was wrong.

Bobby made his way over to where John was sluggishly trying to get up, without success. He ended up sitting against the barn wall behind him, it being the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground.

"I brought you dinner, John. Come eat." Bobby moved toward the small table, placing the plate of food there.

"Not hungry." John's voice was slurred; Bobby could barely make out what he had said. He wandered over to him, but didn't move to help him up.

"Why didn't you sleep on the couch?" He pointed to the sofa next to the small table; the only furniture in the barn, besides the fridge. "It's not even two feet away."

John huffed a laugh, and Bobby could smell the reek of alcohol from where he towered above him. "Passed out before I could get to it."

Bobby sighed, a hand taking off his cap and running through his hair. "You lose another job?"

John closed his eyes and banged his head against the wood behind him, clenching his jaw. Bobby took that as his answer and nodded, his focus on the floor.

In the past, this would be where Bobby would try to convince John that he could find another job, maybe even two. He'd try to convince him that everything would work out, but not this time. This time he said nothing.

He crouched in front of John. "You missed meeting Cas. Again."

John grunted in response. "What's it matter?"

"You're their _father_ , John. Even if you're not around much, that don't change the fact. And Dean? He respects you enough to want you to like who he has in his life. You may not like it, but the least you can do is meet the kid." His gaze flicked to John's bearded face. "You owe it to him. You owe your boys for all the shit you put them through."

John finally opened his eyes, and the look he had made Bobby question why he hadn't started swinging yet. But it soon passed, and what was left was the shell of a man, his soul defeated, and he started sobbing, taking Bobby by surprise.

"You're a complete wreck, John," Bobby sighed. "Alright, come on." He reached out and grabbed a hold of John, hefting him to his feet. "Let's get you to the couch."

It took a while for them to get John on his feet, and even then, he clung to Bobby like a lifeline.

"Mary's gettin' worse, Bobby," he blubbered, roughly falling into to the cushions of the sofa. "She doesn't have long."

Bobby's gut clenched at the sight of the John Winchester before him. This was a completely different version from the one he knew years ago. This man was broken, he'd even dare say past saving.

"Bobby, I can't live without her. I need her," he continued sobbing, grabbing and clutching onto the sleeve of Bobby's shirt. "What am I gonna do?"

He began weeping like a child, and Bobby had no idea what to do. He just stood there and let him cry. After a few minutes he made John lie on his side, and he soon afterwards cried himself to sleep.

Bobby stood back and scratched his head with a sigh. Great. _Another_ thing to keep from the boys.  


	17. Showtime

The Roadhouse Grill was packed. Dean wasn't sure if he had ever seen it this busy. Though, then again, it was probably just his nerves blowing things out of proportion. The band was ready and the stage was set; it was only a matter of time before the boys got together to play for the evening crowd.

Dean was leaning against the bar of the restaurant, trying to distract Sam as he bustled between people and their orders. Gabriel was across the small aisle at the grill, cooking up hamburgers, fries, even tossing the occasional salad before handing it off to Sam who went back and forth between the bar and the grill with a notepad of orders, drinks, food, and a friendly smile. Dean noted that they worked really well together as he took another pull from his soda.

Sam sighed as he came to a stop in front of his brother, a hand running through his hair as he leaned down on the countertop. "Jeez! I need a break."

"Aw, come on Sammy, don't sell yourself short. I think you're doin' great!"

Sam scoffed. "Not sure how to take that, coming from you." His eyes lifted to just above Dean's head and he straightened, the smile slipping from his face as he swallowed.

Dean turned, confused, and straightened himself when he saw his father. "Dad," he breathed, giving the man standing before them in a once-over. He was in a coat, the scruff on his face hiding how tired he was as he gave them a sad smile.

"Heya boys," he said, the low rumble of his voice soft. An uncomfortable silence stretched between the three of them, unbeknownst to others in the bustle of the rest of the restaurant.

"H-how are you?" Sam asked, clearly wanting to break the ice but not sure how to go about it.

John laughed to himself before regarding his boys with hooded eyes. "I should be the one asking you that." Neither boy smiled. "I'm good, Sammy."

"Why're you here, Dad? Shouldn't you be at work?" Dean asked. He could tell something was going on, he just didn't know what. If he had lost another job...

"Samsquatch! Need you over here, kiddo!" Gabe called, moving over the grill frantically. Sam hesitated, not wanting to leave. It had been almost a whole three weeks since the boys had last seen their father. He turned back to John, his eyes pleading.

"Go on, son," John said, and Sam left, reluctantly getting back to work.

John moved to sit next to Dean, his body turned toward him. Dean still couldn't believe that he was actually here. He should be at work; he was always at work.

"Don't worry," John said, as if reading his thoughts. "My next shift is starting soon." He shifted where he sat, not meeting Dean's eyes. "I just... I wanted to wish you luck." He finally lifted his gaze, his eyes sincere.

Dean blinked. He had not been expecting that. Something was seriously off about his dad. "Dad, is everything okay? How'd you even know I was playing tonight?"

He looked over to where Sam was, seeming to ignore the questions. "I know you're going to do great. Your mother and I are proud of you, Dean. Hope you know that."

"Dean?" Hearing his name, he reluctantly turned his gaze from his father. It was Benny. He looked a bit uncomfortable, like he knew he had just interrupted something important. "It's time."

Dean nodded. "Be there in just a sec." He turned again to his father. "Dad?"

John turned to his son once more, a smile on his face as he clapped Dean on the shoulder. "Nothin' to worry about. Go knock 'em dead." With that he turned and walked away, a confused Dean staring after him with wide eyes.

...............

The Free Will band sounded amazing. They did mostly covers of original songs, such as Lonely Is The Night and Wheel in the Sky, but Cas thought that he much preferred it the way Dean sang.

Dean was a complete rock star on the stage. It amazed Cas at how lost he got in the song, the power that was in his voice whenever he sang. He couldn't help the ear-to-ear grin lighting up his face; it was such a contradiction to the Dean that he knew. It was stunning; he couldn't tear his eyes away.

The rest of the Roadhouse was divided between making orders at the bar, eating at the tables off to the side, or dancing in the space created in-between. Cas himself sat at one of the tables, chin resting in hand and elbow on the table, his foot hitting the leg of his chair in time with the music.

Of course, that was when Charlie decided to pop up out of nowhere, nearly scaring Cas out of his seat, a disheveled Hannah being dragged behind her by the wrist. It was like Hannah was Charlie's personal slave or something.

"Well me oh my. You look completely smitten," Charlie said, her eyes shining with glee. Cas turned his gaze down to hide his blush as he fiddled with his drink.

"Well, can you blame me?" he asked, doing his best to feign an innocence both of them knew he didn't have.

Charlie shook her head at him as she sat down, Hannah following suit. "Castiel," she acknowledged, her voice curt. Cas nodded in reply, eyes roaming over her. She looked tired...really tired.

"Everything okay there, Hannah?"

She nodded with a sigh. "I was put in charge of the spring dance this year, and it's being a huge pain in my ass. But it's fine, it'll be great." She didn't sound too convinced.

Charlie gasped, eyes wide. "You _never_ swear! Is it really that bad?"

Hannah lifted her face, and the look in her eyes was deadly. "Well, you haven't exactly been _helpful_ , Charlie. Especially when you drag me out to these kinds of things, when I could be _working_."

Charlie was stunned, her mouth opening and closing with no words coming out. This was the harshest Cas had ever seen Hannah get. Cas leaned back in his seat, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever the heck this was.

"I drag you to these things because otherwise, working would be the only thing you do! I'm trying to help you live a little!"

Hannah crossed her arms, defiance in her eyes. "I never asked for your help! And at least with me working, things would actually get done." Her voice was cold, and she leaned over the tabletop, emphasizing her harsh words.

Charlie gasped and narrowed her eyes as she got ready for a comeback, but their spat was interrupted.

"Sorry, ladies and gents; we seem to be having some technical difficulties," Dean's voice echoed across the room, and those that had been dancing a moment ago stopped and groaned in annoyance. "Nothing serious, don't worry," he continued. "But we're gonna take a quick break and try to figure this out." People continued to protest, and he held up a hand to ward off any more complaints. "Don't worry, we'll fix this. Just hang tight for now and we'll be back in no time." With that, he put aside his instrument and wandered offstage, the others following suit.

Cas's brow was furrowed as he stared after Dean. He needed to make sure everything was okay. "I...I'm just...gonna go..." he said slowly as he carefully got out of his seat, not wanting to scare the two girls into exploding. They were glaring at each other so intently Cas could feel the effects on himself. Man, was he glad that he didn't get involved.

He began weaving his way through the tables and toward the back, where he was sure Dean would be. Before he made it very far, a hand clapped onto his shoulder, stopping him. He turned in surprise, meeting sad eyes in a worn-out, scruffy face.

"Are you Castiel?" the man asked, his voice a low, melancholy rumble. Cas regarded the man before him warily. How did he know his name?

"Yes?" he answered, making it sound more like a question than a confirmation. "Can I help you with something?"

"My name's John. I'm told you're the boyfriend of my son, Dean."

Cas's eyes widened. This was Dean's father? Could that be right? The man before him almost looked...homeless; not to mention he hardly looked like the green-eyed boy Cas had fallen for. He was suddenly self-conscious, wanting to make a good impression, but not sure how to, since he wasn't prepared.

He stuck his hand toward the man, not knowing what else to do. "It-it's nice to meet you sir," he offered, feeling his cheeks heat up at how stupid he must look.

John grasped hold of his hand, his grip firm as he shook it, but his hand soon dropped, almost before the handshake was over.

"Listen, Castiel. I'm not overly... _fond_ of the idea of my son having a...boyfriend, but that's his choice, and I'll respect it. However, if you hurt my boy, I cannot forgive that." His voice was soft as he spoke, but his dark eyes were hard enough to make Cas swallow.

"O-of course sir. I understand," he stuttered. Dean's dad was terrifying.

John suddenly gave a small smile, and Cas could no longer feel the vibe that the man might want to kill him; it was like it hadn't existed.

"Good," said John, with a chuckle at Cas' stunned expression. "You take care of my boy, and we won't have a problem." He then left Castiel, walking towards the doors.

Cas scratched at his head. What the heck had just happened? He was glad he had finally met John, but he had expected it to go much differently. He turned and shook his head, once again moving toward the back.

.......................

When Cas finally found Dean, he was with Benny and Crowley in the alleyway, in what looked like a heated discussion.

"I thought you said you'd get a new cord!"

"I did! I guess I brought the wrong one..."

"Ya think?"

Dean and Benny squared off, while Crowley stood off to the side and watched with a dopey smile on his face, like this was the best day of his life.

"Dean?" Cas interjected, his head poking out from the stage door. "Is everything okay?"

"Hey, Cas," replied Dean, sighing as he turned toward him. "No, actually. Benny forgot his new cord hook-up, and now we don't have a bass."

"Wait. Cas? As in Castiel?" Crowley's wide, dark eyes darted back and forth between Dean and Cas, his expression becoming more and more excited. "Man, this just keeps getting better and better."

Dean turned to him, clearly annoyed. "Yeah, not really the time, Crowley." The look he gave the smaller boy shut him up.

"Look, I can get the other cord and be back here in ten minutes, tops," Benny offered, trying to move things forward as Cas fully emerged from the doorway and into the frigid air.

"Yeah, and what're we supposed to do while we wait for you to get back, huh?"

"You could change the set you guys made," Cas offered with a shrug, eyes moving to Dean. "You could do some acoustic songs." He crossed his arms against the cold. Didn't the others feel the chill?

Dean's face paled as he stared at Cas. "Oh, hell no. No way. I am _not_ doing that."

"Why not?" Benny asked, clearly frustrated. "Dean, you're a damn good guitarist, and--"

"Guys, what the hell is going on?"

The group of boys turned to see Jo's exasperated expression as she walked toward them in frustration. "We're paying you to _play_ , not to stand out here doing nothing."

Benny snapped his fingers, and everyone turned to look at him once more. "I got an idea. Jo, do you still have the keyboard in the back?"

Jo blinked in complete surprise. "Yeah, why?"

"How'd you feel about playing again? For old times' sake?"

There was a pause.

"You can't be serious," Dean opposed at the same time Jo asked; "You guys want me back?"

"Damn straight I'm serious," Benny said, addressing Dean. He looked towards Jo. "You'd only have to play for tonight. We can talk more if you want to join again later, but we need you with us tonight. I'm begging you here, Jo."

"Wait, I'm confused," Cas interjected, trying to catch up.

"Yeah, same here," Crowley said, still trying to be a part of the conversation.

"Jo used to be in the band," Benny finally offered, his gaze still on Jo.

"Really?"

"It was a couple years ago," Dean muttered. He rubbed a hand across his face with a sigh. "We really could use you here, Jo." It seemed to take a lot for him to admit that.

She looked between the two boys before giving a slow nod, her blonde curls bouncing. "Yeah, okay." She help up a finger, her face stern. "But only for tonight. This is a one time deal, guys."

Benny gave a huge sigh of relief. "Thank you, Jo. We'll split the profit with you."

Dean and Crowley sputtered at him in surprise, but before they could object, he turned to Cas. "Did I see you sittin' with Charlie earlier?" Cas nodded. Benny sighed once more, but with a smile on his face as he pulled out his phone. "Man, this is a godsend. It's almost like it was supposed to happen."

Cas blinked in confusion. He had thought Benny was a bit odd since he met him, but it was only because his mind moved at a faster pace.

"Benny, no one here knows what you're talking about." Dean's voice was impatient. "A little clarification, if you please."

Benny opened his mouth to reply, but Charlie appeared in the doorway, a silhouette against the yellow light from the building.

"You called?" she said, her voice not sounding anything like her usual self. She actually sounded a bit defeated.

"Charlie!" Benny called, the smile in his voice. "I have a favor to ask ya, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, what is it?" Her tone was short, but Benny kept going as if he didn't notice.

"You remember where my guitar stuff is at in the garage?" She nodded, tilting her head to rest against the door. "I need you to go back to my place and get the other guitar cord from there. Can you do that for me?"

Charlie heaved a heavy sigh, her eyes rolling. " _Fine_." She ground the word out between her teeth before walking away and closing the door on the others.

"I'll ask her what's up later," Benny offered, after looking at all the faces staring at him in confusion.

"Charlie knows where you live?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"Dean, she's been my neighbor since forever. How did you not know that?"

Dean rubbed at his neck with muttered, "What the hell is even happening right now?"

Benny clapped his hands together. "Alright, here's the plan. We get Jo set up on stage, do a couple of acoustic songs where I help Crowley with the percussion, sing some vocals, and by then, Charlie should be back with my cord, so we can still do Simple Man for the finale."

It sounded like a good plan to Cas. After eyeing Dean's hesitant face, he said so.

"Yeah, it's just... Me playing guitar by myself?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I dunno..."

"What other choice do we have, brother?" Benny's voice was gentle.

"Yeah, come on, Winchester. Man up," Jo offered, a hand on her hip. Dean threw her a glare.

He was almost convinced, but not quite. Cas placed a hand on his shoulder, grabbing the attention of those luminous eyes he loved so much. "Dean, it'll be fine. If it helps, just focus on me in the crowd. It'll be a bit like last time." Dean's face flushed at the words. "Besides, once you start, you won't be able to stop," Cas finished with a smile. It was true. When Dean started to sing a song, there was no stopping him until it was finished.

Dean heaved a heavy sigh as he gave in. "Alright, guess I'm game. Now what songs are we thinking of?"

Benny scratched at his chin. "How 'bout... _Crazy Love_?"

Dean stared at him. "Really Benny?" He only shrugged in reply.

"I'll sing the backups, of course."

"The percussion for that song is really easy. I'm sure I can pull it off," offered Crowley. "To be honest, I'm great at improvising, so whatever songs you want to play, I'm good to go."

"And we can also do _Lost In My Mind_ , by The Head and The Heart," Jo offered, her chocolate eyes lighting up.

"Okay, we can do that," Dean agreed. "But we should have another for a backup in case Charlie isn't back by then."

Jo nodded, a finger on her lip. "What about... _The Girl_ by City and Colour, and we throw in Vance Joy's _From Afar_ for just in case?"

"You kidding me right now? I'd be playing solo for the majority of _both_ those songs!"

She shrugged. "Yeah. So?"

Dean huffed. "Fine, but only as a last resort. Now let's go and get this over with, okay?"  

.................

The transition from loud rock to soft acoustics was a bit awkward, to say the least. Everyone could tell right off the bat that Dean was nervous, but Cas had been right. Dean found him in the crowd and started to play, and once he started he couldn't stop.

When Dean had announced the change of pace, at least for a while, the crowd didn't seem to know how to act. But by the time Dean had started to sing, the majority split between ordering food at the bar or finding a table to sit at.

Cas, however, stayed in the same spot, easy to find. He was leaning with his crossed arms on a tabletop, wearing a dopey version of the crooked grin that always made Dean's heart quicken. When a song would finish, Cas would be the first to call out, making Dean smile his own dopey grin.

It wasn't long after the second song that Charlie came back with Benny's new cord. He hooked it up and signaled to Dean, who plugged in his own guitar.

"Good news, ladies and gents. We have our bass back," he said with a grin as the rest of the band got ready to play. "It's been great to play for y'all here, you guys have been awesome. But without further ado, here is the final song for the night. Feel free to sing along."

He began picking the rhythm on his instrument, the sound echoing across the space in the building. Some in the crowd recognized it right away and cheered, but Dean was focused on the song, their cries muffled over the sound of the melody.

_"Momma told me when I was young, 'Come sit beside me my only son...'"_

Dean loved this song; it was one of his very favorites. Everytime he played it, he got so lost in the sounds, and this time was no different. He closed his eyes and let the music direct his movements, let the words tell him how to feel.

He was alone in the beginning, but that was okay this time. He didn't even realize it because of the power the song had over him. Benny joined in when he reached the chorus for the first time, echoing the theme on a lower octave. Crowley soon tuned in with a beat on the drums and cymbals, but it was Dean that had the stage; it was Dean that encaptured the audience.

_"Forget your lust for rich man's gold... All that you need is in your soul..."_

It was obvious to everyone now that Dean was enthralled in the song, his voice having a strange power over the audience, making them nearly enthralled as he was.

In unspoken agreement, the band remained quiet until the chorus, where they each gave it everything they had. Dean sang as loud as he could, fighting with the cymbal crashes and the ringing melody for dominance. Once the chorus was over, they dropped back down to a softer dynamic, but Dean's voice stayed loud and strong.

_"Boy don't you worry, you'll find yourself. Follow your heart, and nothing else... And you can do this, oh baby, if you try. All that I want for you my son, is to be satisfied!"_

Dean stepped back from the microphone, bouncing on his feet to the beat as his hands moved across his guitar, the crowd cheering. He turned to Benny, and the two boys faced each other; one keeping the theme going as the other created a solo. Crowley in turn did a solo, a quick, harsh beat of the drums and cymbals around him before going back to keeping a steady beat.

Jo added a harmony of sounds on the keyboard she played, even adding a few vocals. Dean had forgotten how good Jo was; she really helped fill out the band. Casting a quick glance at her, she looked just as taken with the song as he felt.

He turned again to the mic for the last few words of the song, the others quieting down or fading out altogether. Dean reached across to the bottom of his guitar's body, switching it back to the regular acoustic sound. He continued to play the guitar riff, before adding his voice, the quietest it'd been the entire song.

_"Baby be a simple, really simple man. Oh be something you love and understand..."_

He held out the end of the guitar riff, his fingers coaxing out the chord for as long as possible. The crowd started cheering long before he finished, and he couldn't help the huge grin that came to his face; he had never felt more alive. It was one of the best feelings out there, and definitely a high he would never forget.

"Thank you everybody, and good night!" he called into the microphone, and the crowd continued to roar, the cheers following the small band off the stage.

.................

The cleanup was easy and went by fast, but the buzz from performing continued to linger, and Dean couldn't stop smiling. But the smile wasn't just from the buzz; Cas had found him immediately after the end of the show, nearly knocking Dean to the ground as Cas threw himself at him. The size of his smile rivaled Dean's, the light in those cerulean eyes as bright as Dean had ever seen it. If it weren't for all the people, Dean would have kissed him senseless then and there.

The small band had gathered together once more at the foot of the stage, waiting for their payment. Sam had come out with Ash, who had a sizeable envelope in his hands.

"Here ya guys go," he said, shaking the longer hair of his mullet to the back as he handed Dean the thick envelope. He clapped Sam on the shoulder before turning to leave. "Sam, I'll leave you to do the honors."

Everyone turned their eyes to Sam, who had a huge grin on his face. "Congrats, guys. You guys were great; you earned all of that," he said, pointing to the thick envelope in Dean's hands.

Dean fingered the edges, eyes moving from what he held to his brother. "Sammy, how much is in here?"

Sam gave him a smirk. "A little over $800." The band gave him incredulous, wide-eyed stares. Sam's smirk turned into a genuine smile, his hands going to his pockets. "There's the original $300, plus 20 percent of what the food bar made tonight."

"You guys made over twenty-five hundred by flippin' burgers?" Benny asked, his mouth hanging open.

Sam shrugged, his smile still in place. "I guess the slower songs made people hungry."

Dean now sat in the driver's seat of the Impala, fingering his share of just over $200. He still couldn't believe it. This was the most the band had made yet. This would help Bobby out with the food and laundry, at least for a little while. Dean hated the fact that they had to impose on him; this was his way of helping him out, sort of like a payback. Though just a couple hundred dollars every month could never repay what Bobby had done for them.

He could feel Cas watching him from across the seat. He ducked his head, feeling a bit guilty that he was ogling the money instead of spending time with his boyfriend. That was another thing he couldn't believe. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get used to saying he had a boyfriend.

"Sorry," he muttered, moving to put the money back in the envelope, already feeling the heat on his cheeks.

Cas chuckled, laughing at his discomfort, but he didn't say anything. He didn't take his eyes off of Dean either. He moved an elbow to sit against the back of the seat, propping his head up in his hand as he continued to gaze at Dean.

"Well, let's get you home." Dean reached to start the car, shifting it into drive. Sam had to stay behind to clean up the restaurant, but said that Gabriel would give him a ride home, and that Dean didn't have to wait up for him. Which was just fine with Dean; he wanted to spend more time with Cas.

But the intensity of those blue eyes were distracting him, making it hard to drive. He unrolled the window, trying to dispel the heat that came over him from just the weight of Cas' stare. It didn't do much.

He knew he couldn't hold out forever though, and he glanced over at Cas. Big mistake. The intensity of those gorgeous blues made the heat inside Dean flare dangerously high.

He cleared his throat. "You got somethin' to say, Cas?"

He could see Cas shake his dark-haired head out of the corner of his eye. "Nope," was all he said in reply, and the car fell back into silence, all except for the rush of wind and the roar of the engine.

Dean squirmed, doing his best to hold out, but that didn't last long. "Screw it," he muttered, yanking the steering wheel to the side. He parked the car on the side of the road, and finally turned to a baffled looking Cas.

"Com'ere," he said, and Cas' eyes put on a devilish gleam, one to match the smirk of his mouth as he slowly crawled across the seat and into Dean's space. Dean wrapped an arm around him, bringing him close and placing a kiss to his temple. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly; it had been too long since it had been just the two of them.

"What do you think is going to happen, Winchester?" Cas teased, and Dean opened his eyes in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Cas replied, leaning close as he moved onto Dean's lap, "I'm not going to give you any special treatment." He leaned back against the steering wheel, his glowing eyes watching Dean's face.

Dean blinked up at him, his hands cradling Cas in place. "Yeah, like I believe that; you're the one sitting on _my_ lap. I was perfectly fine with just sitting here and talking. But then again... I think I more than deserve a good make-out." He leaned up and placed a kiss on the corner of Cas' mouths.

"Oh really?" He quirked an eyebrow, leaning back in, his mouth ghosting over Dean's skin. "And what makes you say that?" His voice was low and husky, and his mouth was _right there_ , tempting and teasing.

Dean groaned. "Just shut up and kiss me already."

Cas leaned down, their foreheads touching. Dean closed his eyes, Cas' hands roaming up his chest. Cas breathed long and deep, taking in the spice of Dean's scent before finally, _finally_ , brushing his lips across Dean's, soft and slow.

Dean followed him, gently pressing their mouths closer, locking their lips together. Dean could feel Cas smile before he moved to deepen the kiss, a hand moving to gently tangle in Dean's hair, and Dean let him take control. Dean breathed out a contented sigh; he could have stopped there, but then Cas moved his hips against him and his tongue flickered out, making Dean gasp at the fire that surged to life inside him.

A hand grasped at the small of Cas' back, the other reaching down to the seat as he twisted the two of them down along the bench, their lips never breaking. Cas broke away when he was finally on his back, staring up at Dean in surprise.

"Well," he said, breathless. "I wasn't expecting that."

Dean blushed and ducked his head, a grin playing on his lips. "Yeah, well... Like I said, I deserve a damn good make-out."

Cas laughed, reaching up to pull Dean towards him once more, intent to give him the best make-out session of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it came to figuring out how much to pay the boys and Jo, I did some research, but I doubt that it was completely accurate. Sorry if that happens to bug anybody, but I went with what I learned and tweaked it to my own devices. Lemme know what you think?


	18. Plans With A Side Of Turkey

It was the day before Thanksgiving. The air was chilled, the colored leaves on trees either falling off their branches or already on the ground and crunching under shoes. The sky was overcast and grey, giving a promise of snow to come.

Dean observed all this as he made his way up to the door. He knocked after reaching the entryway, rubbing his feet on the welcome mat and blowing air into his cold hands as he waited.

Missouri opened the door, a bright smile on her face. "Come on in, Dean," she said, stepping aside so he could enter. The sounds of a piano filled the air; Cas must've been busy practicing.

Dean followed Missouri into the spacious kitchen, where Gabe was sitting at the end of the table, his feet propped up.

"Damn it, Gabriel!" She moved over to him, anger gleaming a threat in her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you to keep your clown feet off my tables?" He had moved his feet off by the time she reached him, but that didn't stop Missouri from swatting him upside the head, nearly dislodging the sucker in his mouth from the force.

Dean made a mental note to never get on her bad side.

Missouri sat down and gestured for Dean to follow suit. He made his way past Gabriel and pulled out the chair, creating a triangle between the three of them across the table.

"Now, I'd like to make plans for the winter break," Missouri said, as if she hadn't just beat Gabriel, who was now rubbing his head. She turned to Dean. "I'd like you to take Cas on a trip."

The sucker in Gabes' mouth twitched as he and Dean shared a look before turning back to Missouri.

"Well, I'm all for it. The kid needs a break, especially after what happened with Naomi. But I don't see what this has to do with me," Gabe said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

"Wait, what happened with Naomi?" Dean looked from one to the other, who were now sharing their own look.

Gabe relented with a sigh. "Let's just say that she wasn't very happy that Castiel didn't practice on Friday."

"That was the concert at the Roadhouse," Dean realized. "She's seriously mad that he missed one day of practice? He practices, what, like two hours per day? If she's really that pissed he can just add on another two one day to make up for it." He was getting really annoyed with this Naomi person. He didn't care who she was, she was being utterly ridiculous.

"Unfortunately, Naomi doesn't see it that way," Missouri sighed. "Which is why I think he needs a break, to get away from everything; especially Naomi." She shook her head at the name. "My family has a cabin down in Texas, right by Trinity Bay. I want you to take Castiel there, have a good time. I'll be sure to give you money for food, and I'll pitch in a bit for the gas as well." She paused as Gabriel held up a hand.

"Again, that all sounds great. But I still don't see what it has to do with me. Wouldn't it be better if it were just Cassie and his boyfriend? I don't wanna be the third wheel."

"Castiel isn't the only one who needs a break," Missouri replied, giving Gabe a pointed look. Gabriel sputtered, working his way up to an excuse, but Missouri cut him off. "I've already talked to Ellen, and she agrees. You need a break, Gabriel, and you're not getting out of it."

"You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Did you ever think that forcing me to go on a vacation might not get rid of the stress you think I have?"

Missouri waved away his words. "Doesn't matter, it's done. And, if Sam can get the time off," she said, turning to Dean with a smirk. "He's more than welcome to go as well."

Gabriel's hand slapped heavily against the table as it dropped from his head and he stared at her, his eyes narrowed. "Really, Missy?"

She gave him an innocent smile and a shrug. "What, is there something wrong with that, Gabriel?"

Dean's gaze was quizzical as he went from Gabriel's fuming figure to Missouri's overly angelic one. "Am I missing something important here?"

_"NO!"_ Gabe snapped, practically yelling it at him.

Missouri smiled again, this time almost triumphant. "Nothin' you need to worry about, deary."

Dean didn't believe them for a second, but decided to let it go. The thought of them teaming up against him was terrifying.

"Hey, what's with all the yelling?" asked a tired voice. Cas walked into the room, his hair messy and a hand rubbing at his eyes languidly. It looked like he was still in his pajamas, the clothes more baggy than usual. With Cas looking like that, Dean couldn't help but think he was adorable.

"I mean, I know I was playing, but I never play loud enough that you have to yell," he continued, his back to them as he reached for a bowl. He turned toward the pantry, bowl hanging from a hand, finally spotting Dean. "Oh. Hello, Dean." His eyes widened a bit but then he continued on his way as if having his boyfriend showing up without his knowledge was perfectly fine and normal.

"Hey, Cas," he replied, not being able to keep the smile out of his voice.

"What's going on in here?" he asked, pouring cereal into his bowl. "Are you guys trying to interrogate Dean?"

"Don't worry, we haven't hurt him," Missouri said, twisting in her seat as Cas made his way to the table. "Yet."

She smirked as Dean gave her a look before rolling his eyes. But to be completely honest, a chill ran through him at the extra word. Seriously; Missouri terrified him. And guessing from the smile flitting its' way across her mouth, she had 'sensed his thoughts'. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the fact that she could do that.

Cas began to crunch on his cereal, it being the only sound for a while. He gestured for them to continue. "Don't stop on my account," he muttered around a mouthful of cereal, making Dean smirk.

"Okay," said Gabriel, looking between Dean and Missouri. "So, all we have to do now is decide when, right?"

"Yeah, sounds about right. Lemme talk to Sammy and we'll let you guys know."

"Sounds like a plan," Missouri said as she got up. "Well then, have a good day, gentlemen. I've got to head over to my office."

Gabriel sighed and rubbed his face after she left. "Damn that woman," he muttered under his breath. "I love her, but she needs to mind her own business. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to get out of this," he said as he stood.

"I still don't see why you'd want to," Dean called after him, but either Gabe didn't hear him or he completely ignored him.

"So," Cas said as he turned toward Dean. "What was that about?"

Dean gave a smirk. "Nothin' you need to worry about," he said, planting a kiss on Cas' temple.

.................

The Winchester family spent Thanksgiving together in Mary's room. The food wasn't the best, but none of them cared. They were all together, that's the only thing that mattered. Even Bobby was there, having a good time and making jokes with John and Mary.

Mary looked worn and tired, which worried Dean, but she did a good job of trying to hide it for her family. He tried not to worry about it too much.

He suddenly jerked his head up, his eyes wide and hopeful. "Did I hear something about pie?"

John smirked and Bobby chuckled, but it was Mary who answered. "We...were just saying...that it's about....time for...dessert. Don't...you agree?" She smiled up at her boys.

"The pie's in the trunk of the car," John offered. "Why don't you go run and get it?"

Dean was already walking out the door. "Hell yes!" he called, not being able to control his excitement.

"Language!" Mary called after him, making the others laugh.

Dean smiled all the way to the car. Today was a good day; he felt good, and this was the happiest he had seen everyone be in the longest time. Except for Cas, everyone that he loved was here, and they deserved this happiness; they've more than earned it.

He unlocked the trunk of the Impala, licking his lips as he looked down at the massive pumpkin pie sitting in front of him. He reached out, but his pocket buzzed, distracting him.

Pulling out his phone, he saw Cas' caller id, a soft smile making an appearance as he saw the name.

"Hey Piano Man," he answered fondly, leaning against the car. "What's up?"

There were echoes of chattering and dishes clinking behind the sound of Cas' sigh. "Nothing much," he answered. "I'm just bored out of my mind here." Dean chuckled. "How about you; how's your Thanksgiving?"

"It's been good," Dean replied, the smile obvious in his voice. "Dad's here, and so is Bobby. It's nice that everyone is here; we haven't been a complete family in ages."

"That does sound nice." Cas' voice was soft, and Dean could tell that he wanted to be there with him.

"Hey, don't be like that. You'll be back in town by the end of the week. We can spend time together, get caught up over the weekend. You can tell me all about Georgia when you get back. You know, in between the other stuff." He scratched at his nose as he cleared his throat.

"You better not make any promises you can't keep, Winchester." The smile was back in his voice, the words he spoke making Dean blush and duck his head.

"I haven't promised anything," he said, trying to sound casual.

Cas hummed. "Well then I guess I'll have to make a few of my own promises when I get back." His voice was low and suggestive, sending thrills up and down Dean's spine.

He heard a whistle, and jerked his head up to see Sam sticking his face and ridiculous mane of hair out the window. "Come on, Dean, we're hungry up here! Get off your phone!"

"Just a sec!" he called back, ignoring Sam's obnoxious grin and tuning back in to his conversation with Cas. "Sorry about that."

"Do you have to go?" Cas asked, his voice almost sad.

"Yeah, I do." Cas heaved a heavy sigh. "But hey, you can text me, okay? I'll answer as fast as I can; and that I _can_ promise."

Cas chuckled, the sound sweet to Dean's ears. "Okay, Dean."

"Okay then." Dean couldn't place what it was that he was feeling; he just knew that he couldn't stop smiling in this moment, and that it was all because of Cas. He wanted to express it, but wasn't really sure how. "Cas," he said simply, his voice much more timid than it had been just before.

"Yeah?"

"Cas I... I think... I, uh... I think I--"

"I know, Dean."

Dean huffed out a laugh, feeling a disappointment in himself wrestling with relief that Cas didn't push him to say it. "Sorry. I'll be able to say it one of these days. Happy Thanksgiving, Cas."

When he spoke, Dean could hear the smile in his soft voice. "Happy Thanksgiving, Dean."


	19. Gifts & Memories

Dean had told Bobby of the plans he had made with the others, and the surrogate father had wholeheartedly agreed; he even told Dean to take the Impala, muttering that John could use the buses before Dean could object.

"It's what he does anyways," he pointed out as he perused the tools on the workbench before him.

"Yeah, but what if he--"

Bobby but him off. "No buts about it, son. There's no need to worry about your daddy. You just take the car and have a good time."

Dean sighed, knowing there was no use in trying to argue his point, and not really wanting to try anyway. But there was something else he wanted to do.

"Here, Bobby," he said, holding out a crinkled envelope in the air between them.

When he turned his eyes shifted from Dean to the envelope and back. "What the hell is that?"

"It's the money I earned from that gig before Thanksgiving. I forgot to give it to you earlier, so I'm doing it now." He raised his eyebrows and shook the envelope, wanting Bobby to take it. Instead, Bobby turned back to the workbench, using a rag to wipe off grease from whatever piece he was working on.

"Keep it."

"What? No." Dean's brow furrowed at his back. "It's the least that I can do on behalf of the three of us; I know Dad doesn't pay you anything, Sammy's busy being a friggin' goodie two-shoes and getting ready for college, and me... I've been a freeloader. I mean, the least we can do is pay our part. Bobby, we owe you everything. So please... Just, take the money." He extended the envelope once more. "Lemme at least help out a little."

"Ya know," Bobby said as he turned around again, working the rag over the silver piece in his hand; "I haven't spent any of the money you've given me."

Dean blinked at him, his mouth open slightly.

"I haven't spent any of it," Bobby continued, giving the piece in his hands a once over; "Because it's not mine to spend." He put the part down and finally looked at Dean, leaning against the workbench and crossing his arms. "So you keep that," he pointed to the envelope; "And maybe use it on your trip, maybe buy a present for your mom, whatever. You earned it, so it's yours. Do whatever the hell you want with it."

Dean sputtered and blinked, not knowing what to say. But then something caught his attention. "Wait. You said you didn't spend _any_ of the money?" Bobby nodded, his smirk barely visible beneath his cinnamon-sugar beard. "Wha... What'd you do with it?"

Bobby sighed and shifted his feet, crossing them at the ankles. "Well, I was gonna have it be a surprise for when you graduated. But I uh, put it all in a separate account. For you. Kinda like a college fund, type a thing. Put everything you earned workin' at the garage in there too."

Dean could only gape at him like a fish.

"Boy, either say somethin' or close your mouth before something flies in there."

Still stunned, Dean let a hand mess his hair as he took in what Bobby was saying, the hand with the envelope falling limply to his side.

"But... I thought we had agreed that I'd take a year and work for you in the garage."

"We did," he confirmed. "And you still can. But if you change your mind, then this'll help you get started with whatever you want to do." Bobby looked him up and down, as if he could see Dean's mind overheating. "Just... keep your mind open, son. That's all I ask."

It had been a couple of days since then, and Dean was still unsure of what to think. So he did his best to ignore it; which was pretty easy when Cas was by his side to distract him.

Although, he was also sure that Cas knew something was on his mind; since he kept asking if everything was okay, like he did just now.

"You sure you're okay, Dean?"

Dean turned toward the squinted eyes and the nest of tousled hair sitting next to him with a soft smile. "Yeah." He tried not to get lost in the endless depths of those blue eyes. "Everything's okay, Cas."

He could tell that Cas didn't believe him, but Dean also knew that Cas wouldn't push it, which he was eternally grateful for. How the hell had he been lucky enough to find him?

"Okay, enough with the heart eyes, you guys," Sam said from across the table, his nose still in a book. "Or did you guys forget we're still in school?" He gave them a pointed look.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean glared a threat at his younger brother, but it didn't work very well on account that his cheeks were flaming. Sam just smirked up at him; an annoying, triumphant smirk. Dean saw something flash in his eyes, but it was gone before he could place it. Huh.

Charlie suddenly appeared, flopping down on the seat next to Sam with an overly dramatic sigh. "Hi, guys," she said forlornly, then her head dropped onto the tabletop with a resounding thump, making all the boys around her jump.

"Uh, hey Charlie. What's up?" Dean cautiously asked. Something was obviously bothering her, had been since the night of the gig, but he was afraid that she'd either burst into tears or explode into a rampage if he tried to push her into opening up. It'd happened in the past, and he wasn't so eager to live through that again.

"Yeah, and where's Hannah?" Cas asked, making Dean's gut clench. This was what he had wanted to avoid, but there was no going back now. It was no secret that the two girls had been close; they worked closely with each other since they were on the class presidency, and had slowly been spending more and more time together outside of their 'duties'. But something must have changed, because Hannah was no longer being dragged everywhere by Charlie.

Charlie gave a long, loud groan in reply, her forehead still against the tabletop. "I'd rather not talk about it," she grumbled. Dean had no idea how she managed it, but she simultaneously sounded like she was threatening their lives while being on the edge of tears.

She plucked her head from the table, a smile hastily being plastered on her face as she threw her flaming hair behind her shoulders. "Everything is fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Perfectly fine. Now tell me what you guys are doing for the Christmas break?"

The boys shared a look before playing along. "We're gonna stay for a while, then leave for Texas the 28th," offered Sam.

"Texas? What the hell's in Texas?"

"My guardian has a cabin there, by the coast," Cas replied. "We'll be staying there until after New Year's."

"Well that sounds like fun," Charlie sighed. "My family's taking us all over to New York."

"What's wrong with that?" Dean asked. "I thought you've always wanted to go there."

"Well, yeah," Charlie rolled her eyes. "But not to see extended family that I barely even know. Hopefully my parents will finally relax a little and I can finally see a Broadway show in real life." She sounded glum, and the usual light in her eyes had dimmed. "Oh!" She sat straighter, suddenly remembering something. "Be sure to tell Mary to expect a gift from me this year. My family is dragging me to this concert in Carnegie Hall." She shuddered, as if just the thought of an instrumental concert was unbearable. "But," she continued; "I know that Mary's always wanted to go there, so I'll see what I can do to bring back some kind of souvenir for her."

"That's very nice of you, Charlie," Cas said, earning a genuine grin from the redhead.

"Which reminds me," Dean said, looking over at Sam and meeting his hazel gaze. "We still need to finish Mom's present."

"Don't worry about it, it's almost done," Sam waved away Dean's words. "I'll have the rest of the charms by the end of the week, and then we can put it together in time."

"Good. But just to be clear," Dean pointed at Sam, his face stern. " _You're_ the one putting it together. You're the one who's into that crafty, girly crap." Sam glared at him and rolled his eyes.

"What is it you're giving her?" Cas asked, the blue pools he called eyes going back and forth between the two boys.

"A charm bracelet," Dean said with a soft smile and stained cheeks. "We've been hunting for all kinds of charms that she'd like; the Beatles, angels, things like that, and then we're gonna put it all together." Dean scratched at his nose, feeling a bit weary at sharing his sentiment; something he was not known for. "I really wanted to do somethin' special for her, but there's not a whole lot I can do 'cause she's... ya'know. So this is what I thought up, and Sam offered to help me out, and we've been on a roll ever since."

Charlie had leaned against the table, her expression becoming soft and dreamy as Dean spoke. When he finished, she gave soft sigh, her gaze far off. "That was beautiful, Dean. I didn't realize how much of sap you are. I wonder if it has something to do with Cas?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Shut up," he replied, not meeting her gaze.

The bell soon rang, and the group gathered up their bags and stood to throw away their lunches.

Cas reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder, pulling him in for a sweet, lingering kiss. "Mary's going to love your gift, Dean. I just know it." He leaned in for another kiss, this time a peck on the cheek, before grabbing Dean's hand and leading him down the hall while Dean kept his head down and blushed furiously.

...............................  

Christmas day. Finally. Well, close enough.

The days leading up to it had been long, though not unpleasant. Dean chalked it up to the nerves and excitement he felt about giving Mary her present. The bracelet was finished, but would she actually like it? He had been tormenting himself with this question for days; and now that the time was here, he wasn't sure if he should feel relief about getting it over with, or nerves in anticipation of her reaction. He tried to shrug it off as they moved down the hallway.

Silver and gold tinsel strands lining the stretches of walls, the crests of the waves they created held up with bright red bows. Stickers of reindeer and Santa danced on the glass of windows; boxes dressed as presents sat on the desks at the nurses station, with green garland and even a small tree with colorful lights making it all the more festive. Things also hung from the ceiling, turning in the air from the vents; depictions of handmade snowflakes, gifts and reindeer, and for those that were more religious, there were hangings of the North Star, and even a little nativity set just beside the entrance to the chapel.

Sam and Dean shared a small smile all the way to Mary's room, pillows and blankets tucked under their arms. Technically visiting hours were over, but Tessa had been working with the Winchester family for a long time, and was aware of their Christmas tradition: The two boys would come over late Christmas Eve and stay the night, to be joined by their father and Bobby in the early morning of Christmas Day. They'd swap food, gifts, and stories in the early hours of Christmas morning, being the only ones awake in the building. The quiet from the building and the world outside made it seem that much more magical; like the small, mixed family was the only one in the world.

Dean, of course, had brought his guitar like he did every year, which he would strum when the family ran out of things to say. With tired smiles they would sing songs, the sounds of altos and tenors meshing nicely with Mary's soprano and trickling out the door to the rest of the building, slowly rousing others in the building to the bright hope offered by the Christmas sun.

Mary's eyes were closed when Tessa nudged the door open and gestured the boys inside. Doing their best to stay quiet, the boys went to either side of the room; Sam setting his things on the floor and spreading a blanket on the window sill after shoving aside the false snow, Dean propping his guitar up and cramming his pillow underneath the plush chair before he plopped down, his gaze moving to rest on his mother.

Normally, or at least in years past, Mary had still been awake by the time the boys showed up. Looking at her sleeping form wrapped a wrinkle of worry around Dean's heart. He shared a look with Sam, seeing the affliction he felt echoed on his sharp features. Was she getting worse?

But he didn't have long to wander down that train of thought, as Mary's brow wrinkled, her eyes slowly blinking open.

"Hello?" she called, her voice quiet and a bit hoarse. "Boys, is that... you?"

Forcing a smile, Dean scooted the chair he was sitting in closer to the bedside, gently placing a hand on top of hers. "Hey, Mom." His voice was soft.

"You feeling okay, Mom?" Sam asked, his brows drawn together and eyes on Mary, his hands rummaging through his backpack.

Mary sighed and put a smile on her face, looking up at the boy towering above her. "I'm okay," she assured him. She flicked her eyes down to Sam's hands, a book being pulled out of his bag. The gold lettering on the spine reflected the words A Christmas Carol in the dim lighting. "I think...it's time...to start reading, don't...you?" Sam grinned and ducked his head, moving to sit on the window sill. "Dean, honey...would you turn on...the light?"

Dean didn't move, seeming not to hear her. Instead he stared wide-eyed. He wasn't sure why, but he could tell that she was lying. Or, at the very least, that something was bothering her and she was keeping it from them. He wanted to talk about it, wanted to fix it--

"Dean?" Mary was looking at him, her soft eyes searching his face. "Angel, what's wrong?" It was unfair that she could so easily tell that something was wrong, and it frustrated Dean that she was focusing on _him_ , on _his_ problems, instead of her own.

But again, Dean didn't say anything, working his jaw. This was Christmas, and he didn't want to ruin it by dragging out problems. This was a time to pretend that their problems didn't exist, to put them off for at least a little while and deal with them at a later time. So that's what he did; steeling himself in a way where he didn't have to think about those problems, where he didn't have to think at all.

"Sure, Mom. I'll get the light," he finally answered, forcing a small smile to play on his lips. Brushing back her golden locks, Dean kissed her forehead, her brow going smooth once more.

.....

Sam read to them. He read and read and read, weaving the classic tale of Scrooge into the air around them, to the point where Dean could picture the scenes in his mind. Dean would laugh to himself when Sam would switch his voice to sound like a different character, feeling an eternal gratitude that this was a tradition they did every year.

Mary had her eyes closed the majority of the time, simply listening to the story Sam told. But she would smile and chuckle occasionally, turning her head and opening her eyes at Sam, who gave a cheeky smile before turning back to the book he held.

They had started reading the book earlier than they had in years past, and when Sam finished the book and they checked the time, it was only about 2am. Bobby and John wouldn't show up for at least another hour or two.

"Whoa, really? It's only two? What're we gonna do until Dad and Bobby come?"

"Well, I have an idea," Sam supplied, closing the book and clutching it in his hands.

"Sam," Dean said, a warning in his voice, since Sam wouldn't meet his gaze.

"What...is it, Sammy?" Mary asked, her voice encouraging.

"I don't want to wait anymore." Sam sat straighter, his eyes bright and earnest. "I want to give you the gift that Dean and I made for you."

There was a pause as Mary took in her son's request.

"Well..." Mary's voice trailed off, but not because she needed to catch her breath. "We've never...done that before, we've... always waited for...your father. But," she turned her head to Dean, a soft smile on her face, and her eyes animated. "It's...up to Dean."

Dean searched her face. He didn't want to wait either, but Christmas was for family, and not everyone was here yet. But...

"You sure you don't mind, Mom?"

Her cheeks showed the hidden dimple that only showed when a moment was especially endearing to her; like her boys asking for her permission. A soft "Of course," was her answer, following a nod, but Dean was stooping to grope in his backpack before the words were out.

He pulled out a small, somewhat battered box; simple and worn, but still elegant. The ivory package was held together by a sleek, wide, and delicate blue ribbon, tied into what looked like an expert bow. Dean held it gingerly, as if afraid that it might break in his hands.

Sam whistled when he saw it. "I thought you said that I was the one that was into all that crafty girlie crap."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said, his cheeks growing red. "So I bought a box. Sue me." He looked up at the sweet sound of Mary's laughter, a smile of his own forming and relaxing him.

Dean looked at Sam, gesturing with the box. "You wanna do the honors, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head with a smile, the ridiculous mane he called hair swishing softly. "This was your idea, Dean. It's all yours."

It took Dean a moment before he moved his seat closer to Mary's bedside, feeling the presence of a soft blush staining his cheeks as he looked down at her. He wasn't sure how to go about this; he had been sure that Sam would have been the one in this position. So he talked as his hands slowly went about opening the box, his fingers gently tugging on the ends of the blue bow.

"So... It took me a long time to figure out what to do for you, Mom," he admitted. "But when Sammy and I talked about it, this is what I came up with, and he helped me out. I bought everything, but he was the one to put it all together." Having moved the ribbon to the side, he gently tugged at the top of the box. "So really, he put more effort into this than I did."

"Dean, would you just shut up and give it to her already?"

Dean shot Sam a glare before turning his gaze to what lay inside the small box. He reached in and grabbed ahold of the chain with the tips of his fingers, slowly raising the long bracelet out of the box. It caught ahold of whatever little light was in the room, and Mary gasped as it glinted, her soft eyes going wide. The little charms clinked together as Dean set the box off to the side and moved to stretch the length of the bracelet with his fingers.

"Boys it's...it's beautiful."

Dean grinned, a surge of pride swelling in him at the sound of her words. He started to point out the different charms, starting with a small ball cap. "This is uh... This is for Bobby. He loves you like a sister, and he's been more than an uncle to Sam and me. This one here," he said, pointing to a small, and intricately carved gun with a long barrel. "This one's for Dad, since he used to love going hunting."

He moved the bracelet around in his hands, passing several blue colored beads and getting to the other side. "This is me," he said while pointing to a pair of angelic wings; "Since you always call me angel. And this one is Sam," he said as he fingered a charm in the shape of a long, jagged edged knife. "I chose it because of that one argument way back when of how Sam would be the one to bring a knife to a gunfight and still win." Dean's voice was soft, and quickly becoming ragged as he thought of all the people he loves represented on the bracelet. He cleared his throat and started pointing out the other charms the boys had found.

"There's some other things on here too; like the beads, because blue is your favorite color. There's some Beatle things on here, a guitar and things like that... Some stars, and other things that we know are your favorite. But my favorite part," Dean said as he gently lifted Mary's arm; "Is that it wraps around your arm in the shape of the infinity sign." He wrapped the bracelet around as he talked, closing the clasp with ease. "And because of that, you know that we'll always be with you."

He finally finished talking, and looked up to see his mother with a tear trailing down her cheek. He moved to thumb it away, just as another tear escaped.

"This is...it's beautiful, Dean. I...I love it," Mary sniffed, seeming not to be able to control herself. "Now...you boys get down here, and...you give your mom a hug."

Dean wiped away some more tears before moving in close and hugging her tightly to him. He felt a dip on the other side of the bed as Sam sank down as well, his arms enveloping both his mom and brother.

Mary was crying, but it wasn't out of sadness. There was a bright smile on her face, one of the brightest that had ever been placed there. "I love you...both. So much," she said, and it seemed to be the only thing that she could say. She repeated it several times, up to the point where she had fallen asleep.

At some point, after Mary had fallen asleep, Sam had moved from the group hug, but Dean still held onto his mother, soon falling asleep himself with her in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I can post before it's all caught up to my writing pace, which happens to be very slow, so I apologize in advance for how long it may take to post future chapters.   
> I feel pretty proud of myself for the last scene in this chapter, but I want to know what you all thought. Did I do a good job? Did any of you cry?? Haha, all joking aside, I'd really appreciate your feedback/comments on how it went. Thanks, and I'm so grateful you chose to read my writing!


	20. Road Trip

Dean hummed under his breath with the song playing in the car, and Castiel decided he could stay in this moment for forever; the sun shining through the chilled air and into the Impala as they sped across the asphalt. It made Dean look as if he was glowing, the tan of his skin looking warm, soft, and welcoming. Cas wanted nothing more than to move his hands across that golden skin, to make Dean squirm under his touch, but now wasn’t the time; Dean was driving. But not being able to resist at least  _ some _ kind of touch, he settled for reaching out and grasping at Dean’s free hand, tugging it from his lap and closer to himself. 

He repeatedly smoothed his thumb across the skin, feeling smug at the sight of the hairs on Dean’s arm standing straight just from so simple a touch. Cas began to experiment, gently massaging the limp, calloused palm that he held, really using any excuse he could think of to run his hands across Dean’s amazing skin.

Cas noticed, after a time, that Dean had stopped humming altogether. The tantalizing eyes Cas had grown to adore were still on the road; though from what he could see, Dean’s expression was one of contentment, a small smile on his full lips and his body relaxed.

He wanted to be close to him, self-control be damned. 

Cas unbuckled and slid across the bench of the pleather seat, nuzzling into Dean’s space in a matter of seconds. Cas clutched Dean’s free arm to his chest while he buried his face in the crook of his neck, Dean sputtering out a string of profanities in surprise. 

“Dammit Cas, I’m tryin’ to drive!”

Cas hummed in reply against Dean’s neck, a wicked grin sliding into place as he felt goose bumps rise along Dean’s skin. “Tell me about your Christmas, Dean,” he said, his voice low and words spoken breathlessly onto the spot just behind Dean’s ear.

He felt Dean shift in his seat, heard him clear his throat, and a rush of something like accomplishment sped through him.

“I already told you, Cas,” Dean said, and Cas was disappointed to hear that his voice was still even. “And if you’re gonna sit in the middle now, you gotta buckle up.”

“We’re almost there; we just have a few more minutes til we hit the town.”

“Cas, we’re goin’ 80 on a highway. Put on a friggin’ seatbelt.”

Cas huffed out a sigh, reluctantly loosening his hold on Dean. Grabbing the seat belt with a major eye roll, he quickly buckled it into place across his lap. He returned to his earlier position, and began to play with Dean’s hand once more. 

“I still wanna hear about your Christmas,” he muttered.

“Again, I already told you, dude,” Dean chuckled.

“Well tell me once more.”

“Why?”

“Because it sounds wonderful. And I feel bad that I didn’t get to see Mary before we had to leave. I had a present for her and everything.”

Dean sighed, and Cas could tell that he was about to cave.

“Okay, fine. So I already told you about Mom opening Sam’s and my gift.”

Cas nodded. “I told you she would love it.”

“And you were right,” Dean said with a smile. Cas loved it when he smiled. He looked so carefree. “I don’t think I’ve seen her that happy in...years.” His voice trailed off, his eyes far off and distant as he relived that moment in his mind.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, maybe an hour or two after that, Dad and Bobby finally showed up. They brought those weird danish doughnut things, a crappy batch of coffee, and some other food.” Dean smiled through his tale, and Cas could easily see the small family gathered together. “I had fallen asleep somehow and Bobby woke me up with a smack to the head. We ate everything, even drained the coffee. By the time that was done it was about...4? Maybe 5...” Cas shifted his head so his gaze fell on Dean’s contemplative face. The sun was still shining, making the green of his eyes bright and the gold flecks sparkle.

“It was still too early for us to start singing, so we all went around and tried to come up with the most ridiculous story. Bobby won,” Dean said, his mouth hitching to one side, and the sun shone bright against the white of his teeth. “His story was about this old hag who came into the shop and turned out to be some kind of fairy or somthin’. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard. The old hag was really the queen of fairies in disguise and could grant any wish.”

“What happened next?” Cas asked, curious.

Dean chuckled. “His story had been based off this crazy-ass dream he had. He ended it with him waking up.”

Cas huffed a laugh. “That sounds like something Bobby would do.”

“Yeah…” Dean reached up to scratch his nose, Cas loosening his hold before entwining their fingers once more. “Then we opened the rest of the presents, and sang all the classic Christmas songs, and a special one that we all made up together. And then we were all so dead tired that we decided it was about time to leave. But I decided to stay a little longer; I wanted to make up for the time we’re gonna be at your cabin.”

“That’s right,” Cas muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Sam told me that you were having second thoughts.”

Dean would have turned his full attention to Cas if he hadn’t had to slow the car down. They were almost in the little town, and he had to wait for oncoming traffic to clear. “What’re you talkin’ about? I wasn’t having second thoughts.”

Cas hummed. “Sam says that you were trying to get Mary to tell you to stay.”

Dean cursed his younger brother internally. He hadn’t been trying to get her to tell him to stay; he just wanted to be sure she was okay with him leaving. They would be gone for a while and he hadn’t even considered if his mother would miss him. She didn't get very many visitors; Dean wanted to make sure she’d be okay without their almost daily visits.

“I wasn’t having second thoughts, I was just worried about Mom,” he confessed to Cas. “Sam and I have never left her for as long as this trip is gonna take and I just… wanted to be sure she’d be okay.” Dean used the heel of his hand to move the steering wheel, turning the Impala onto the road into town. “She doesn’t get a whole lot of visitors--”

“Hey,” Cas said with a gentle tug on Dean’s arm. “Dean, it’s okay. I’m not mad or anything; I get it. Believe me, I get it.” Dean glanced down at his soft tone, and met sincerity shining bright in the blue of Cas’ eyes. He wanted to ask what exactly Cas meant by that, but his eyes were so enticing Dean almost forgot about the road before them and had to force himself to turn away. “I was trying to tease you, but I didn’t realize you were that worried about your mother. For that I’m sorry.”

Dean blinked, seeming not to expect that kind of a response. “Cas, it’s okay. It’s nothing to worry about.”

They drove for a while in companionable silence, passing a few intersections on the winding road. Cas sat up a little straighter, no longer slouching on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, I think we might’ve missed the turn,” his voice trailed off as he craned his head around to peer through the rear windshield.

“Alright, lemme turn around…”

………….

Gabriel was really… Well, he didn’t really know what to call it. All he knew was that he was feeling frustration, anxiety, hope, and annoyance all at once. He couldn’t think of any time that he had felt this before, and it was really throwing him off.

Despite his initial reluctance to go on the trip with the other three boys, he was looking forward to it. He loved his little bro, and Dean was a good kid with his head screwed on right. His only worry was Sam.

Gabriel had come to discover that he had...feelings for the younger Winchester. But he was Dean’s brother, and to make matters worse for Gabe, Sam was a high school junior. Although he had been tempted many times, Gabriel had never strayed down the path that would lead to him doing something illegal. He was proud of that fact, though he was confused as to why he was feeling the way he did about Sam in the first place, since he was almost 8 years his junior. 

He had never been attracted to anyone that had such a drastic age difference to himself before. But what was really frustrating was that now it was going to be he and Sam, alone, in a cramped car for 11 hours; and he was pretty damn sure that Sam knew of his feelings. He even suspected that Sam might actually reciprocate said feelings.

When the time came for them to finally leave, the two of them were at the Roadhouse, helping Ellen, the owner of the place, with the food preparation for the day. Gabriel had insisted that he at least do this before he leave for a week, and for once, Ellen didn't argue much. Plus, it really helped Gabe distract himself from the insane knot of feelings in his gut at the encroaching time of departure. 

Ellen did, however, promptly shove the two of them out the door when the clock struck 10.

“Get the hell outta my diner, and have a good time for me, okay boys?”

Gabe turned around to face her. “Ellen, there’s still stuff to do, let us--”

“What, you mean putting out the damn  _ chairs? _ ” She raised her eyebrows incredulously, like Gabe could have come up something better and was insulted that he hadn’t. “Gabriel, I can do that myself.”

“But-”

“Boy, that better not be an old joke about to come out of your mouth.” Ellen glared at him with a pointed finger, and Gabe promptly shut his mouth.

Sam laughed, coming to Gabe’s side and placing a hand firmly on his shoulder. Gabriel’s body couldn’t seem to decide whether to shudder at the sudden lack of personal space, or shiver at the heat the hand seeped through his clothes and onto his skin.

“Don’t worry, Ellen. I don’t think he was trying to doubt your ability of moving chairs from the tables to the floor. We’re leaving now; right Gabe?”

The man in question threw a glance at Sam, meeting those hazel eyes head on. The sucker in his mouth twitched as he turned back to Ellen, who had crossed her arms and smirked at Gabe like she knew his internal struggle. He squinted his eyes in a glare at her before giving a nod.

“Yeah yeah,” he said, his voice curt. “We’re leavin’. Got everything you need kiddo?”

“Yup; made sure everything I needed was packed when you picked me up this morning.”

“You absolutely sure? Cause if you happened to forget a pair of underwear or something, you’ll have to go commando.” 

The copper flecks in Sam’s eyes shone as a dangerous gleam passed over those hazel depths, his mouth curving in a smile. Gabriel gulped, thinking about how that sentence could be interpreted.  _ Dammit _ .

“Gabe, would you quit stalling and get off my property already? I’m starting to get cold.” Ellen sounded exasberated, her hands on her hips, but she was relaxed, a small smile playing on her face.

“Stalling? What on earth do you mean by that? There’s no way I’m stalling!”

Ellen just gave a knowing look. Okay, so maybe he was stalling. A little.

Sam grabbed ahold of his shoulder once more and yanked him towards his beat up, 1979 Ford Pinto; the green metal shining dully in the sun.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Fast forward a bit in a tension filled car ride, Sam and Gabe were in their own worlds while in the same space; though each were painfully aware of the other and wanting to break the awkwardness, but neither was sure how to go about it. 

Gabe cast a glance at Sam before turning back to the road. It seemed endless, and it looked every bit like the last ten miles of road they had crossed. He sighed heavily, the clock on his dash showing they had been on the road for only an hour and a half. If things continued the way they were, it was going to be one long, awkward car ride. 

He reached over and turned on the radio, the chorus of Bad Company’s  _ Ready For Love _ filling up the car. Sam looked over at him with his brows raised and a smirk on his lips. Gabriel could feel his face heat up as he fumbled with the radio some more before just turning it off, clearing his throat.

“It’s almost lunchtime,” he said, still feeling the weight of Sam’s gaze. “You wanna stop somewhere?”

“No need; Ellen packed us lunch.”

“What? Please tell me she packed some cake as well.”

Sam chuckled as he placed his sketchbook off to the side and reached into the back seat for a small cooler. “Knowing her, and knowing you, there’s definitely something in here. Let’s see…” he trailed off as he opened the cooler, moving things around. “There’s a couple sandwiches, drinks, chips, and...pie?” He pulled out several containers of the dessert, and it looked like there were at least three different kinds. Sam huffed out a laugh. “Well, Dean will certainly appreciate this.”

“Is pie his favorite?” Gabe asked, trying to keep a conversational atmosphere instead of the awkwardness from before. 

Sam snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. He can tell what kind of pie it is just from the smell; on the other side of the house, no less. Doesn’t even have to be in the oven.” Though it was clear he was exaggerating, his tone was caring. 

“Cassie’s like that too,” Gabe offered, his voice quieter than usual. “But instead of pie, it’s with music. He can name any piece, and who wrote it to boot. Kid’s a genius.”

They lapsed back into silence, though it was more companionable than last time. Sam had put aside the cooler of food at this point, and reached for his sketchbook once more, his fingers twiddling the pencil. 

“What’re you drawing this time?” Gabe asked out of genuine curiosity.

“You,” Sam said simply. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Sam…” Gabe sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand, not sure what to say.

“Gabe, come on. I’m sick of acting like there isn’t anything between us when there clearly is. Don’t you think we should at least... _ talk _ about it?”

“We have, Sam. You know we can’t, and you know why.”

“No, I don’t. Explain it to me, please.”

“It’s  _ illegal _ , Sam! You, of all people, should be able to understand that, mister… never breaks a rule.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Nice nickname.”

“Don’t sass me. Sam, this is serious. We  _ can’t  _ get involved with each other, not in that way. Not...romantically.”

“Well I’m sick of following the rules!” Sam yelled, making Gabriel jump. “Doing that only gets you so far, is just a means to someone else’s end. I want to do something  _ I _ want for once, I want to do something for me.” Sam paused, regaining control over his anger while Gabriel just sat in shock. “I like you, Gabe. A lot. And a relationship with you is the only thing I’ve ever truly  _ wanted  _ in my life. So I’m gonna go after it.” With that, he turned back to his sketchbook, the pencil moving swiftly across the pages.

Gabriel sighed and momentarily closed his eyes. His jaw worked as the silence between them grew, along with his frustration that he couldn’t seem to get through to Sam.

“So why not go after art?” He said, his teeth clenched as he gained control over his temper.

“What?” Sam asked, his voice soft once again.

Gabe cast him a glance, feeling Sam’s eyes resting on him. “You heard me. Why not go after art? I  _ know  _ you want that. Why not get involved with the art club at school, or whatever it’s called? I’ve seen some of your stuff kid. You’re really good. You could really do something with that kind of talent.” He sighed. “It’d be a damn shame to waste it.”

Sam shifted to face Gabriel in his seat, once again closing the sketchbook. “I’ve already told you; I’m going to be a lawyer to help out my family.”

“Which is fine. But who says you won’t be able to help out your family as an artist?” Sam scoffed. “I’m serious, Sam. I think your art is amazing; who says that some big-wig won’t think the same thing?”

“You’re serious,” Sam said after a pause. He sounded a bit incredulous.

“Damn straight I’m serious. And you can still become a lawyer, whatever; it’s your choice. So long as you don’t give up on your art either.”

“Gabe, you know I’d love to, but if I’m going to be able to help out my family, get the kind of money that we need… there won’t be time for me to do much art; if any at all.”

“Well then don’t be lawyer.”

“Gabe--”

“Have I ever told you about how I ended up being the cook at the Roadhouse, Sam?”

He blinked. “Uh...no. But I don’t see--”

“Long story short, I put my family’s needs ahead of my own when I was 17; I’ve been there ever since. My  _ point _ , Sam,” He looked over at him once more, his face more serious than any other time Sam’s seen it. “Is don’t be like me. Don’t get stuck.” He turned back to the road, ignoring Sam’s questing eyes. 

Looks like they were going to have that awkward car ride after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're all caught up to my writing pace now, and again I want to apologize in advance, because I've no idea when the next chapter will be finished.  
> How did I do in the Sabriel scene? It's a lot harder for me to write those kind of scenes, I'm not sure why. But I would really appreciate any feedback/comments you have. Was it a bit awkward, did if flow? Things like that. Thanks guys!


	21. Ends With A Splash

They had been driving down the graveled pathway for a while now, with no sign of a cabin in sight; not even a hint of civilization. Just a bunch of towering trees and the pungent smell of wild-flower's perfume drifting through the cracked windows.

“Cas,” Dean ventured, feeling silly for asking the same thing for the umpteenth time. “Are you  _ sure _ we took the right turn?” He cast a glance at the boy beside him, seeing him give an eye roll, but he was smiling.

“Yes Dean, I’m sure. Just keep following the road.” He pointed through the windshield. “See the curve up ahead? The drive to the cabin is just off of that, and it’ll take you right to the front door.” He turned to Dean, seeing his frown of uncertainty. “We’ll be there soon, Dean,” he laughed, then leaned in and pecked his cheek for good measure.

Dean felt his cheeks staining, and he tightened his hold of the steering wheel. “We better be. Baby’s getting dirty from all this dust. I just might give her a bath later today.”

Cas hummed. “Not sure if I should help, or sit back and watch you work in those booty shorts you wear; you know, the ones you only wear when you clean Baby.” Cas sighed dramatically, seeming to weigh the options as though if he were to choose wrong it could be the end of everything he knew. “Decisions, decisions…”

His cheeks now aflame, Dean jerked the car off the graveled path and onto the dirt road as per Cas’ instructions, refusing to look down at the smirk he knew was placed on Castiel’s face.

“I got no idea what you’re talking about, Piano Man.” He was intent on denying even the existence of those booty shorts. 

“Dean, it’s nothing to be ashamed about. I like your body, it’s totally fine if--”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Dean cut him off, his blush extending down to his neck. His eyes flicked everywhere but down at Cas, who was looking up at him with that infuriating smirk that drove Dean crazy. If he looked down, Dean knew he’d lose control. He was determined to focus on the road.

This pathway was much more crowded with trees, making it hard to see anything else. The road kept going, curving here and there, all the while continuing to bring the boys uphill.

“Where the hell are you taking me, Cas?” Dean asked, after yet another handful of minutes without sight of any kind of building.

“Technically, _you_ are taking _me_ somewhere, since you’re the one driving. And if you’re worrying about being murdered or something equally ridiculous, don’t. If I really wanted to, I would have done that ages ago.” Cas smiled up at Dean. “Though I have to say, I know how to choose ‘em.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You know, I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

Cas laughed and ducked his head back into the crook of Dean’s neck. They continued on the dirt road when the cabin seemed to appear out of nowhere, looming in front of them, tall and proud.

“Whoa…” Dean slowed the car as he ogled the building before him. “You call  _ this _ a cabin?”

“Well what were you expecting?” Cas sounded genuinely confused, bless him.

“I dunno, maybe a log cabin with a couple of rooms, but not anything like this!”

The thing that stood before them was an elongated, two story building, looking like the exact opposite of the rough-and-tough woods cabin that Dean had been expecting. An adjacent room was connected by a thin hallway, and from what Dean could tell, it looked like there was an entire wall made of nothing but glass. 

The way it was designed still made it look like a cabin on the outside; all dark brown surfaces wherever you looked, but it seemed more like a really fancy house had been displaced in the woods to Dean.

Somewhere along the way, the road they had been cruising down had changed to a smooth, paved drive, ending as it curved toward the two door garage just ahead of them. Dean stopped just outside those doors, putting the Impala in park while still roving his eyes over the building. 

“It’s really more of a family get-together, retreat kind of thing. Everyone in Missouri’s family pitches in to pay for it, and the majority of the time, we all meet here for reunions,” Cas explained. “Missouri’s family is made up of a lot of successful people, so I guess they had to build one fancy enough to satisfy their luxurious lifestyle.”

Dean turned his wide-eyed stare to Cas. “Wait, they built this? From the ground up?”

Cas nodded. “Yep. If I remember right, it took almost a year; since people kept fighting over the blueprints and whatnot.” His blue eyes took an a mischievous glint as he grinned up at Dean. “Wanna go explore?”

Dean laughed at his choice of words, but answered with his own grin just as mischievous. “Hells yeah I wanna explore.”

……….

If it were possible, the place was bigger on the inside. They had unpacked the food that they had brought into the huge fridge in the fancy kitchen, and had dumped their bags in the living room with the huge, luscious couch and giant flatscreen. There were so many things that contradicted Dean’s definition of a cabin that Cas was worried his eyes might pop out of his head, they were so wide.

He couldn’t help but smile at his boyfriend’s awestruck manner; his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide and his gaze roving all over the place, like he couldn’t decide which part was his favorite. 

They went around the expansive house, Cas leading Dean around by tugging on his hand. He showed him the theater in the basement, where it was all plush carpet and even more plush furniture. Dean seemed to be especially excited by the fact that there were several game stations that hooked up to the giant screen in the room; and after browsing through their collections of games he stood back and nodded, trying to play it off as cool, but Cas could see the excited gleam in his eyes.

He dragged him back to the main floor then up the stairs, where they chose their rooms. Since they were the first to arrive, Cas took it upon himself to make sure that he and Dean the rooms that had an adjoining door. What could he say? He had…  _ plans  _ for this week, and if it so happened to take place at night, he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t disturb Gabriel or Sam. His cheeks stained at the thought, but he was soon distracted by Dean, who rushed past him and into the open space.

“Whoa,” he breathed, his eyes just as wide as they were downstairs. “Is this my room? This is  _ huge! _ It’s bigger than the one I’ve got at Bobby’s!”

Cas cringed internally. Though his own past was a bit...messy, to say the least, he hated the fact that he still had more than the boy before him; who deserved it so much more than he did. Dean had too big a heart for his own good, and Cas had committed himself to doing everything in his power to give Dean everything he deserved, and if possible, to give him even more.

“Hey Cas, you okay?” The green-eyed boy he had been thinking about now looked at him with concern wrinkling his brow.

Cas blinked away his thoughts and put a smile on his face. “Yes Dean, I’m fine.” He walked behind Dean and opened the door in the middle of the wall, revealing a similar room on the other side. “I’ll be sleeping in this room. Feel free to knock or come in whenever you...need me.”

“We have adjoining rooms?” Dean blinked, a blush starting to stain his cheeks, and Cas could feel the same thing happening to him. Dean cleared his throat and scratched at his head. “That’s… awesome, Cas. But, uh…” He stepped closer, his cheeks growing brighter still and hands shoved in his pockets. “Are you sure you don’t want to, I dunno... share a room?”

It was Cas’ turn to blink. He furrowed his brow. “Wait, do  _ you? _ ”

He could tell that Dean did his best to keep eye contact when he answered with a simple, “Yeah.” It sounded like a question. Dean shuffled his feet and looked at the ground as he continued. “I mean, only if you want to. We’ve been together for a while, and… I dunno, I just…” He let his voice trail off, not really knowing what to say.

Cas grinned, pulling Dean to him in order to place a kiss at the corner of his mouth, promptly shutting him up.

“Of course I want to share a room with you. I just wasn’t sure if  _ you _ wanted to,” he confessed, feeling silly as his cheeks stained. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Dean replied, his eyes on Cas’ lips. He leaned in once more to place a longer, deeper kiss on his mouth, and Cas hummed his approval.

Before it got too heated, he pulled away, grabbing Dean’s hand and scooping up his bag.

“Come on!”

“Where are we going, Cas?” Dean laughed. 

“We’re taking the master bedroom.” Cas answered as he tugged Dean behind him.

“Wait, wasn’t Gabriel going to take that room?”

“Yeah, well, change of plans. He doesn’t have to like it, but he can deal with it.”

Dean chuckled behind him, and Cas couldn’t help his grin.

….

After they dumped their bags on either side of the master bed, Dean had gone straight to the window, completely taken aback by the expanse of the view.

“Whoa, you can see the entire beach from here!” he said, leaning closer to the window.

Cas chuckled behind him. “I like it better from back here.” Of course he would say something cheesy like that.

He rolled his eyes before turning again to Cas, his cheeks stained and a fond smile on his lips even as he said; “Shut up.”

But he hadn’t been prepared for the sight of Cas stretched out on the bed; propped up on an elbow and a lazy smile grinning at him while Cas tilted his head. Something about the look tugged at Dean’s insides, and he sauntered his way back to the bed.

“Oh, come on; you know you like it,” Cas teased, sitting himself up. He’d swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and Dean stepped right up, filling the space in between them. Not missing a beat, Cas claimed Dean’s hips in his hands, holding him there.

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, maybe a little,” he admitted, a grin on his face as he leaned over Cas and gradually closed the space between them.

The kiss had been simple, sweet, and the kind that lingered. In a word, it was... nice. Dean loved the way that his brain went completely blank except for the weight of Cas’ hands on him, the feeling of his mouth on his own. 

But then that simple kiss began to change from something sweet to something more urgent, and soon Cas began to slowly pull Dean down on top of himself as he leaned further back on the bed. Hands began to roam; Dean began to undo the buttons on Cas’ shirt, while Cas focused on getting Dean out of his jacket, then shoving the fabric of his shirt away so he could play with Dean’s skin hidden underneath. 

They had both moved to undress further when there was a loud rumble coming from Dean’s stomach, making both of them freeze. Dean could feel himself turning the deepest of reds, and it didn’t help that Cas pulled away to lie flat on the bed while he laughed freely. Dean had no idea what to do; he was frozen in embarrassment. 

“I take it you’re hungry then?” Cas asked, wiping away a tear or two from his eyes.

“I guess so,” was all Dean could muster up.

Cas breathed out another laugh before reaching out to smooth Dean’s shirt back into place. “Well then I guess it’s time for dinner.”

They straightened themselves up then made their way back to the expansive kitchen downstairs; opening a cooler of food that Missouri had prepared for them before they left. They ate in relative silence, though whenever they met each other’s eyes they couldn’t help but smile at each other. Dean’s cheeks kept heating up at first, but after a while he calmed down, moving past the embarrassment from earlier. 

They soon took a walk outside, giving Cas the opportunity to finish his tour of the place. Come to discover it had a large back patio with a swimming pool, and they made a promise to each other to relax at the side of it before the day was done.

And they kept true to that promise; now sitting on a wide, cushioned circle that rich people apparently call furniture. Dean sat in nothing but his swim trunks, the curve of his guitar sitting comfortable on his knee, the body of the instrument hugged to his chest as he absentmindedly strummed. Cas sat next to him, leaned back on his elbows in trunks and a t-shirt, which Dean thought was highly unfair. Cas has seen him shirtless several times now, while Dean had the pleasure to freely run his eyes across Cas’ lean, toned body only a couple of times. 

“What song are you singing?” Cas asked, breaking Dean out of his reverie. 

“Uh…” Dean blinked, trying to place it. He hadn’t even realized he was singing until Cas said something. He let his hands continue strumming, now listening for himself to the tune. He wasn’t surprised when he recognized it after only a few chords; it was one that he played often. “It’s a song called  _ Angeles _ ,” he answered, and soon added his voice to the chords, starting the song anew. “ _ Someone’s always coming around here, trailing some new kill… _ ” His voice filled with emotion, with nostalgia, though he had no real connection to the song himself. The emotion changed from nostalgic to one that was more yearnful, a longing to fulfill an undisclosed desire.

The song had a sad story attached to it, though there were several interpretations of said story. But Dean didn’t really care about the actual story; what he connected to was the  _ feeling _ . The emotions are what are important, not so much as why you feel them. Though why you feel them plays a part, the ‘why’ doesn’t write the song. 

_ “I could make you satisfied in everything you do,”  _ Dean looked over his shoulder at Cas, a smug smile on his face.  _ “All your secret wishes could right now be coming true…”  _ He didn’t look away until he saw Cas’ face flush, smiling even in his discomfort.

He soon finished the song, his eyes watching the movement of the water against the side of the pool. The last strum of guitar strings slowly hummed into silence, being replaced with the quiet chirp of crickets all around.

He felt Cas shifting beside him, sitting up straight and just outside his periphery. “Why did you choose that song?” Cas hushed. 

Dean thought for a moment. “I dunno; guess I just had it in my head,” he shrugged. He gently moved the guitar away from himself and off to the side, leaning against whatever it was they were sitting on. 

After straightening, Cas scooted closer, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder and loosely running his free hand up and down the arm that Dean was leaning on.

“It’s kind of a sad song, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I like it.”

“Why’s that?” Cas asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

“Uh…” Dean found it hard to focus with the heat of Cas’ hand creating the good kind of goose bumps all over his skin. “I guess you could say I like what I feel when I play it.” He looked down, trying to figure out the best way to phrase it. “When I play it, I feel this...calm. I don’t really know where it comes from; maybe the sequence of chords, maybe the melody, I have no idea. But it makes me feel calm. I play it a lot back home; when I have a bad day, when I can’t focus….when Sam’s being annoying,” he added with a quick grin, earning him a huff of laughter from Cas. “Plus it’s simple. Which I think is important. Life should be simple.”

Cas brought up his other hand, tracing it lazily across Dean’s back. Dean couldn’t help the shiver that overtook him at the touch. He slowly turned his head towards Cas, their eyes sharing a comfortable conversation of their own before Dean moved in and captured Cas’ mouth; a simple, pleasing pressure of lip on lip.

This kiss was different from the one before. While it was still sweet, it carried a much more pressing demand with it. Dean moved a hand to the nape of Cas’ neck, tugging him ever closer while he deepened the kiss, his fingers curling with a gentle tug at the dark curls he found. 

Their mouths still connected, Cas had somehow moved to straddle Dean’s lap, changing the angle and bringing his hands to frame either side of Dean’s face. Dean felt his arousal grow and hummed his approval when Cas deepened the kiss further, leaning into Dean and slowly making him lie back on the cushions. 

They continued on, and Dean even managed to get Cas out of his shirt, tracing the wonderfully toned body above him before tugging him closer with a sigh, getting lost in their kiss. He felt a bit brave and started moving his hands lower--

Suddenly the warm weight was ripped completely off of him, leaving him cold. He heard a shout, and sat up just in time to see Cas being thrown into pool.

He looked wide-eyed at the perpetrators. “What the hell was that?” he demanded, moving his arm in a vague gesture towards Cas, who had just popped his head above water and was sputtering profusely.

“That,” Gabriel said, pulling out a sucker from his mouth; “Is what happens when you steal my rightful room.” Where the hell does he stash those things? And how did he not have serious dental issues? 

Cas swam to the edge and lifted himself halfway out of the pool with one arm, a soft glare on his face while he looked up. “Well hello to you too, brother.”

Gabriel bowed in acknowledgement before popping the sucker back in his mouth. 

“Our drive down was great, by the way,” Sam threw in with a shrug, and it was only then that Dean took the time to comprehend his presence. He was dressed like Dean, wearing only swim trunks, and his crazy mane of hair was propped up in a rare man-bun.

“When did you guys get here?” Dean asked, still a bit surprised by their sudden appearance.

“Not that long ago,” Gabe answered, moving to sit next to him. “We saw you two lovebirds gettin’ busy out here, and it just seemed like the right time to say hey.”

Dean blushed and couldn’t meet Gabriel’s eyes.

“Yeah, talk about scarring your brother for life,” Sam mused, running a hand across his face.

“And who, may I ask, had the brilliant idea of throwing me into the pool?” Cas asked, and though the tone was gentle, the look in his eyes said he was seeking revenge.

“That would be me,” Sam said, tilting his head with a triumphant, self-righteous smirk on his face. “You guys looked pretty hot, thought you could use a cool down.”

“Oh come on! Would you quit being a bitch?” Dean snapped, though he could feel his blush spreading to the tips of his ears.

Sam spread his arms wide open with a grin and a gleam in his eyes. “Come at me, jerk!”

Dean took the phrase literally and didn’t miss a beat, his own grin appearing as he leapt up and plowed into Sam, knocking the air out of him. His brother struggled against him, but Dean kept going, dragging Sam into the pool with him, a laugh of triumph leaving him in a whoosh before he hit the water. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooooo sorry it took me this long to post another chapter! It's kind of embarrassing how long it took, actually... :P  
> But there are reasons for that. Like, I apparently get major writer's block when it comes to happy scenes, which is what this was, for the most part. I think what happened was happy scene writer's block jumped on top of regular old writer's block, and just made it twice as difficult, and probably four times as long to write, if that makes any kind of sense to someone out there.   
> Anyway, thanks to those who will actually continue to read this despite the horrible breaks between chapters; and the happy stuff seems to be the hardest for me to write, so please give me some feedback in how I did(?) It'd be much appreciated! :D


	22. Misconduct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got to update the chapter! :D  
> Don't worry; I don't think there's anyone who is more frustrated with the pace of my writing as I am. It seriously drives me nuts, and I'm so sorry for those who were waiting so patiently for there to be an update, I feel so horrible it took this long!  
> For my lame-ass excuse, it took me forever because 1) Sabriel scenes are so hard for me to write, because I don't necessarily ship it; at least not as enthusiastically as Destiel. And 2) It took me 4/5 attempts to get this chapter to where it felt RIGHT (And each attempt had been painstakingly close to completion themselves).  
> Long story short, writing is freakin' hard, but I hope you like the addition to the chapter, and please oh PLEASE let me know what you think? I would really like to know if it's something you guys liked.  
> Thank you for being your awesome selves, and please enjoy the chapter!

They stayed at the pool for quite a while, eventually coaxing Gabriel into joining them for a huge splash war. That was a thing of pride for the Winchester brothers; they never half-assed anything, and if they were going to throw water at each other, it wasn’t going to be called something as sissy as a water ‘fight’; it was going to be a water _war_. The word ‘war’ was much more macho.

It had started off as Dean and Cas against Sam and Gabe, but somewhere along the way, and with knowing smirks, Sam and Dean had teamed up their efforts, backing up the opposing brothers into a corner and wailing on them mercilessly. Gabe became fed up enough to launch himself at Sam, consequently dunking him under the water. Cas soon followed Gabriel’s lead, throwing himself at Dean, but he was ready for him and easily caught Cas in his arms, suddenly grateful for his extra inches of height when he didn’t topple over.

Cas struggled in his arms, doing his absolute best to tip Dean over while he was held in a crushing embrace, but it wasn’t until the other two boys jumped on him from behind that Dean went under, the water abruptly cutting off a laugh of triumph and replacing it with a gurgle.

By some silent agreement between the four of them, the boys each dragged their bodies out of the pool; heaving themselves over the sides with shaking arms and heavy breaths, too exhausted from what transpired in their watery battlefield to do much else then splay themselves out along the sides of the pool, gazing up at the dark sky as they slowly dried off.

Dean and Cas eventually made their way back to the piece of furniture where Sam and Gabe had found them earlier. Gabriel could hear Cas start talking about the constellations above them, and smirked as they flopped down and became engrossed in each other again, consequently ignoring Sam and himself.

“What are you so cheeky about?” came Sam’s voice. Gabriel jumped and turned towards the sound, surprised at just how close they were.

“Geez, Sam! Ever hear about a thing called personal space?”

Sam gave a devilish grin as his only response.

Gabe felt a flutter in his stomach at the sight of that smile; it was a flutter that he’d felt before, but it was somehow different with the younger Winchester. Somehow each stare was more... _intense_ ; and this smile was making the roller-coaster feelings he got from the stares look like lazy butterflies. Which didn’t exactly bode well for himself and his meager hopes of getting over whatever kind of ‘crush on a 16-year-old’ this was.

Gabriel did his best to throw up a mask before Sam could catch on, giving a dramatic roll of his eyes accompanied with a heavy sigh, turning his head away from Sam’s prying eyes. He really didn’t like how Sam could so easily read him and his thoughts. He could feel the heavy weight of his stare still resting on him, and it was making him restless. Gabe tried his darndest to ignore the metaphorical itch it was causing him, and kept shifting around trying to get comfortable. Or, at least, as comfortable as he _could_ get on a slab of concrete; with the embodiment of his every temptation laying next to him no less.

It wasn’t an easy feat.

After several minutes of silence, in which Sam _still_ stared, and where Gabe shifted around for what felt like an eternity, he gave up and quickly popped up from where he lay, getting to his feet as quick and nonchalantly as possible.

“Weeeeell,” he said, clearing his throat and still not being able to meet Sam’s gaze; “I think I’m going to turn in.”

“What?” Sam asks, sitting up, his hands spread in a disbelieving gesture. Gabriel was having a hard time not looking at the broad, toned chest so suddenly on display. “Dude, we just got here. Don’t you wanna relax for bit first?”

“I’m not sure trying to drown each other in a huge water fight counts as relaxing so much.” Gabe scratched at his head, doing his best to look anywhere but down at a half-naked Sam basically spread out before him.

Sam pointed a finger up at him. “Water _war_ ,” he corrected.

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, whatever. Point is, I didn’t get to take a nap on the way down, unlike a certain floppy-haired princess I know,” he said, giving Sam a smirk.

Sam glared up at him, but Gabe had quickly become immune to Sam’s bitchface, and has fondly started a mental tally of all the different ones Sam could pull. This one was number 27.

“Well you _could_ have if you took me up on my offer to drive.”

“There ain’t no way I’m letting you drive my car!” Gabe answered, appalled at the very thought of anyone else driving his Precious. “Anyways, I’m tired. I’ll see ya later Samsquatch.”

“I thought I told you to quit calling me that!” Sam yelled after him, but Gabe just threw a hand up over his shoulder and gave a noncommittal hum as he made his way back to the house.

Once inside, Gabe closed his eyes and ran a hand through his shaggy hair, a heavy breath escaping as he tried his best to get the imprint of Sam’s body out of his mind.

“C’mon Gabe, get a hold of yourself man,” he muttered, willing the fast pace of his heart to slow down a bit. After a minute or two, he started making his way through the expansive living room, passing the large stone fireplace and plush furniture to the hall just beyond it. He continued to mumble to himself, making his way to one of the rooms just past the bathroom. “Sure, he’s attractive as all hell, but is he really worth going to _jail_ for? No, of course not; no guy is.”

He pauses in his rantings after he enters the room, not seeing his bags anywhere. Sam had been in charge of bringing in their luggage, and Gabe had told him which room he’d chosen to take after finding out that his traitorous brother had stolen the master bedroom from him. He remembers giving clear directions, and Sam hadn’t said anything about getting lost or confused, so where the hell are his bags?

Gabe wanders all throughout the room, thinking that maybe Sam put them somewhere out of sight from the doorway. His brow wrinkles with deeper confusion when he _still_ can’t find his bags, and, thinking that Sam may be playing some kind of prank on him, he looks in the closet and even under the bed, but the bags are nowhere in sight.

He sighs as his somewhat good mood starts to dissolve. But gathering determination, and motivated by the chafe starting to set in his legs from his swim trunks, Gabriel sets off through the massive house room by room, searching for his lost luggage.

It’s maybe a half hour later that he finally makes it upstairs, after searching the rest of the downstairs area for his bags; he even checked the basement. His frustration grows steadily greater when yet again, his bags are nowhere in sight in the room closest to the stairs.

Usually, Gabriel likes this place; likes how big and spacious it is, and how many rooms there are. This isn’t one of those times.

Sighing for what feels like the millionth time in five minutes, he shuffles across the hallway to the next room, passing the bathroom on his way. He steeled himself for another rush of disappointment, but paused with wide eyes. There they were; just heaped in a perilous pile on the comforter of the bed, looking impossibly innocent and like they hadn’t been missing for the good part of an hour.

Gabe walks cautiously towards his bags, glancing around as if waiting for something to just pop out and snatch them at any moment. But nothing happens even when he reaches the bedside, so he does his best to shrug the feeling off.

Though he’s confused as to why his things aren’t in the room he picked, his gladness that he even found them takes more presence. He should really move his stuff back down to his room, but his skin is cold and uncomfortable, and he wants to change; like, right now. He starts digging through his duffel, searching for some fresh clothes so he can get out of these cold ones that scratch against his skin, and puts them aside once he finally finds them. It’s only when he tugs his shirt over his head that he becomes aware of the fact that he’s no longer alone.

He turns towards the direction where he feels the weight of a stare coming from, and his heart jumps to his throat when he sees Sam leaning casually against the doorjamb leading into the other room, a smirk on his face.

“Goddammit Sam!” Gabe pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation, jaw clenching as he tries to keep his emotions in check. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Sam just chuckles and crosses his arms, the muscles bulging and temptatious. “Don’t stop on my account,” he says, giving a nod while his smirk turned to an outright grin.

“I didn’t peg you as such a pervert, Winchester,” Gabriel replied in stride, though he was a bit unnerved and moved to cover himself by crossing his arms. “Where’d you come from anyways?”

Sam gave a snort. “These two rooms share a door, apparently.”

Well crap. How had Gabe totally missed that tiny, albeit important, detail; the door that was wide open and clearly showed the bedroom beyond? It was clear from their conversation in the car on the way down that Sam was definitely trying to make Gabriel cave right now.

Gabe tried to convey as much warning into his voice as possible. “Sam, we _can’t_ \--”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” he cut Gabe off, straightening off the doorjamb and taking a few steps closer. “I’m not gonna try anything; not now, anyway. But it doesn’t mean we can’t be neighbors, and it also doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy the view.” His eyes once again began trailing over Gabriel’s body, and Gabe could feel himself become equal parts thrilled and embarrassed, a blush heating his cheeks, which just ticked him off.

Gabe had never really had issues with his body; he was actually kind of proud of the condition he was in, and although he wasn’t someone with a rock hard six-pack, he wasn’t all that pudgy either. But that didn’t mean he wanted Sam to know that; not visually anyway.

He reaches out and snatches up the fresh shirt, glaring at Sam even as he tugs over his head and yanks it into place.

“Yeah, well, this ain’t no free show,” he gripes, and starts gathering up his things, doing his best to ignore the chafe in his legs that was now probably deep set, much to his annoyance.

Once everything is gathered up in his arms, he trudges out the door with Sam on his heels.

“Well then how do I pay you?” Sam laughed.

Gabe’s frustration flared, and he abruptly turned, making Sam have to stop or mull him over. He looked down at Gabriel with wide eyes, and _damn_ _him to hell_ for being taller!

“You can shove it where the sun don’t shine! How many times do I have to tell you, huh? This isn’t a _joke_ , Sam! Just cause you know I like you doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it, because I _can’t_ ! I _don’t_ get to have you, I don’t _get_ to have what I want, I never _have_ . So would you quit with the puppy eyes and making me _want_ you? I’m done, cause this sure as hell isn’t funny anymore.”

Gabe’s chest was heaving by the time he was done, and Sam only stared at him with his hazel eyes blown wide yet looking calm, while the muscles in his jaw clenched over and over again. Gabe shifted his hold on the bags he was holding while debating between just up and leaving or waiting for Sam’s reply.

But that choice was taken from him when Sam suddenly sighed and hung his head. When he brought his gaze back to Gabriel’s, they shone with something he couldn’t quite place.

“Who says I’m laughing?” is all that he says, his voice soft but firm.

Gabe’s brow wrinkled. “What?”

“Who the hell says I’m laughing about this, Gabe?”

Suddenly a hand is on his face; Gabe doesn’t remember it being placed there. Sam’s thumb gently smooths over the skin under his eye, and Gabriel blinks, his eyes going wide. Crap. This can’t happen; why the hell is this happening? _How_ is this happening?

But Gabe can’t get himself to move. He’s frozen even as Sam shuffles impossibly closer.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life,” he hushes, his other hand rising to cup Gabriel’s face.

Gabe couldn’t help it; he inadvertently looked down at Sam’s lips. They twitched with a barely there smile and came ever closer to his own. He was trapped. Sam had him trapped and Gabe knew it; he was pretty sure Sam knew it too, but he couldn’t get himself to do anything about it. He didn’t _want_ to.

Sam did nothing to help him out of this crazy spell, even as he nuzzled their noses together.

“What’s so wrong about this, Gabriel?” Gabe closed his eyes and did his best to repress his shiver at the use of his full name. He may or may not have given a whimper at this point.

He could feel the warmth of their breaths mixing together, knew that Sam’s lips were ghosting over his own with an almost touch that was driving him insane.

“I think you want this, just as much as I do. Maybe even more.” Sam moved the warmth of a hand from Gabe’s face to grab at the hand not holding his bags, slowly moving it to rest on Sam’s hip, his own hand covering Gabe’s. Gabe sucked in a breath at the contact. “All you have to do is tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this.”

Gabriel’s fingers gripped into Sam’s hip, clutching at the fabric there, trying to ground himself. But it had the opposite effect. He could move those clothes. Get to the warm, soft flesh they were hiding… He could run his hands along the smooth skin, feel the heat it emanated firsthand, feel the contours of Sam’s arms, his chest...

No. NO! _Snap out of it, Gabriel,_ he yelled to himself. He _couldn’t_ do that. But that didn’t stop him from _wanting_ it. But does that necessarily mean anything?

“Gabe, look at me.” Sam waited while Gabe clenched his jaw before reluctantly meeting the shining green and copper eyes watching him earnestly. And just like that, Gabriel’s head began to clear; the eyes that he admired making it easier to _think_.

He couldn’t do this; he couldn’t demoralize Sam. He was still just a kid. Gabriel doubted Sam knew the full extent of what he was asking. Besides, though Gabe was looking more seriously at settling down with someone, Sam must be at the other end of the spectrum and was probably just looking for some fun.

Gabe did his best to convince himself that it was out of respect for the both of them that he pulls away from Sam, never breaking the gaze they held, the one thing that made the consequences clearer to himself in the heavy air, even as Sam’s gentle hand fell from his face and his stomach churned at the loss. Sam stared at him, his brow furrowing.

“Sorry, Sam.” Gabe’s simple but weighted words were hushed, and off he went; his bags hoisted over one shoulder as he made his way to the staircase, his head hung. He couldn’t look back; he knew he’d change his mind if he saw Sam’s goddamned puppy eyes right now. He tried to make down the stairs graciously, but it was a little hard since he felt a bit sick.

He made it all the way to his newly claimed room before his hands started shaking. He dumped his bags unceremoniously on the bed, shoving his hair back as his hands raked through it, a heavy sigh escaping him with puffed cheeks. It did nothing to dispel the roiling emotions he couldn’t name in his gut, making him nauseous.

He knew there was no way he was going to sleep tonight, and he really didn’t want to feel this shitty about life for longer than absolutely necessary. Decision made, he quickly changed out of his swim trunks, tugged on his shoes, and snatched up his keys, determined to find a bar and drink enough that he couldn’t remember whatever it was that had happened in that upstairs hallway.

…………………….

Sam awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. He shifted as he grumbled and stuffed his head under a pillow, trying to ignore the ringtone that was just too upbeat for his liking. It just wasn’t right with how goddamned early it was. He should really change it; maybe to something more low-key.

He released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding when silence returned to the room, the call going to voicemail. Glad it was finally over, Sam smiled as he snuggled deeper into his warm cocoon of blankets, getting comfortable once again.

He really should’ve known that it wouldn’t last long.

His phone started ringing again, Asia’s _Heat Of The Moment_ shattering the silence once more. Really, why had he let Dean choose his ringtone? He didn’t even like this song.

Resigning himself, Sam huffed out a breath as he fumbled in the dark for his phone. The glow of the screen showed it was 1:26. What the heck? No one he knows calls at this ungodly time. He glared at the unfamiliar number flashing on his screen. Though logic told him otherwise, if this was a telemarketer of some kind, Sam was going to be mad.

He sighs again before answering, his voice low and rough from lack of use. “Hello?”

“Hi, um… Is this Sammy Winchester?” It was a woman, and she didn’t sound like she did this on a regular basis; she sounded shy.

“Yeah, this is Sam,” he begrudgingly answered, rubbing at his eyes. “What’s this about? Why are you calling so early?”

“Well, you see… I’m calling from the local bar, the Griffin, and--” There was a clatter followed by rustling and indistinct voices. Sam became more awake the longer the call went on, though his brow wrinkled further in confusion the longer he waited.

“H...Hello?” he ventured, not sure what else to do.

“Sasquatch!”

Sam had to pull the phone away before the unexpected voice had the chance to burst his eardrum. It was only after he was sure there wasn’t going to be another threat to his hearing that he brought the phone back to his ear with trepidation.

“Gabe?” He asked, his gut twisting in a way he couldn’t define. Was Gabriel seriously drunk-dialing him?

“Yup! The one and only!” was the slurred reply, and there could be no doubt: Gabe was seriously drunk. But _why_? Sure, he had seemed a bit upset earlier, maybe even a little pissed off, but he had seemed to walk it off the farther he got away from Sam.

He had seemed just fine while Sam’s heart became hollow with ache.

“What do you want, Gabe, I’m trying to sleep.”

There was a heavy sigh through the speaker. “Sammy, I’m sorry. I feel so… I feel… not good.”

Sam’s breath caught. What did that even mean? Was he apologizing for earlier?

Before he got the chance to ask, Gabriel suddenly yelped on the other end, making Sam cringe. There was an angry sounding woman’s voice, occasionally with a deeper voice pitching in. Presumably both were yelling at Gabriel. There was a resounding crash, and it took a while for someone to pick the phone back up from wherever it must have fallen.

“So, uh... as you can probably tell, Gabriel is pretty drunk.” It was the girl from before, still sounding small and shy. “We really hate to ask, but is there any way you could come get him? We don’t trust him to ride in the cab by himself, and none of us can leave the bar yet.”

Sam blinked. Was this really happening right now? Maybe this was just a really messed up dream; a trick that his mind was playing on him for being too forward earlier, taunting the thing he wanted in front of himself. It didn’t make much sense, but then again, it was a joke in the family that Winchesters like to torture themselves. Maybe this was just one of those times.

Sam squeezed his eyes closed, calmly trying to force himself awake as he took deep breaths.

“Sam? Are you still there?”

Sam opened his eyes at the intrusive voice with a bit of surprise, his brow wrinkled. “Yeah, uh, I’m still here.” So this _wasn’t_ a dream. This whole thing was real. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you give me the address? I’ll borrow my brother’s car.”

……

It took a while to get to the bar. To be perfectly honest, it probably didn’t last more than a handful of minutes, but to Sam it felt like hours. It was still too early for his sleep-addled brain to wrap around the fact that he had been abruptly awoken to a ridiculous request to pick up his friend. A friend he cared deeply for, sure, but still. He was nothing more than a friend.

Gabe had made it pretty clear the first time Sam had made a move that he ‘couldn’t’ have a relationship with Sam, though Sam could easily tell that Gabe wanted it. The guy couldn’t keep the longing out of his eyes, and so Sam had ignored his warnings. But after last night… Sam wasn’t sure where he stood. Normally Gabe was as easy to read as a book; but his face had been stony with rage when they had their…‘conversation’. Sam pursed his lips together in thought, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

It had been a bit awkward for him to snatch the keys to the Impala. But he didn’t want to wake Dean up just to have him say no to borrowing the car. Besides, it was only for a few minutes, Sam reasoned; though he wasn’t quite sure if the price of stealing the keys had been quite worth it.

He’d had to sneak into the master bedroom, and he had not fully prepared himself for the image that was now probably seared into his brain.

Dean and Cas had decided to share a room; which Sam knew and was totally okay with, but as he snuck around the bed to the nightstand, he had gotten a good look. Dean had been on his stomach, his shirt thrown off somewhere as per his usual, drooling into the pillow and an arm wrapped snug and tight around Cas. Cas, in turn, was snuggled deep into Dean’s side, his head nuzzled against his shoulder, a smile on his lips as he slept. And when Sam had accidently thumped the drawer closed a little too hard, Dean had mumbled and shifted in his sleep in order to hold Cas a little tighter to himself, and Cas’s legs shifted beneath the covers, probably slotting them through Dean’s.

Sam’s throat caught at the mental image, a hand rubbing across his face as he tried to block it out. He still couldn’t properly define the emotions he was feeling, though he had a good guess. He was happy for Dean, he more than deserved the happiness that Cas brought him, and thank God he finally had something, but… Sam couldn’t help but want that for himself. Yeah, he was probably going to hell, but Sam was jealous of his brother.

He sighed and pushed the depressing thoughts away, finally seeing the parking lot for the bar.

The building was long, out of the way, and more or less nondescript; besides the green sign declaring it ‘The Griffin’. It looked like they were getting close to the last call of the night, what with the parking lot being nearly barren. What cars were there were far and few between, the owner of one of them staggering from the entrance of the building to slump against the side of his vehicle.

Sam’s conscience took control and he parked quickly, watching closely as the man fumbled with his keys. It wasn’t until the cab he called for came to pick up the man and take him home that Sam’s personal worries came crashing back onto his shoulders.

It took a heavy sigh and a few more minutes than he’d like to admit for him to turn back towards the building. He really didn’t want to do this, but he had no more excuses to drag his feet. Resigning himself, he swallowed, squared his shoulders, and made himself walk inside.

Though it had taken him a while to find the bar, it took even longer, believe it or not, to get Gabe into the car; even with three people holding him up. He was apparently the ‘spazzy’ type of drunk; random bursts of energy where he would get distracted and try to break off to run free, or there were the times when there was no energy and he’d go completely limp, nearly taking the entire group to the ground.

Gabe seemed intent on keeping a hold of Sam somehow, be it by his hand, arm, or shirt; even his hair, albeit in a painful grip.

“Sammy, your hair’s so _soft!_ ”

Sam grimaced, doing his best to ignore the painful tugs and focus on just getting closer to the damn car. “Yeah, thanks, Gabe.”

“Can I braid it sometime?” This got a laugh from the old geezer of the group. “Can it, Rufus! You’re just jealous.”

“And why is that?” the older gent grumbled, a smile on his face despite his panting breaths. Sam could understand that; Gabriel wasn’t exactly a lightweight.

“Cause you’re close to bald, you old coot!”

At that, the other member of their party, who had insisted Sam call him Alfie, busted out a laugh. “Even though I hate it when you get drunk Gabriel, I love witnessing the things you won’t remember the next day.”

Sam wrinkled his brow as they inched their way closer to the car. “Wait, you guys are friends?” _And Gabe’s drunk himself stupid before?_ he added in his thoughts.

“I wouldn’t call it that,” muttered Rufus, just at the same time as Alfie said; “Of course! We’ve known him for years.”

Sam’s interest was peaked, but the more important thing right now was opening the car door and shoving Gabriel onto the backseat. If Gabe so happened to hit his head on the side of the car, and if he passed out almost as soon as hitting the pleather; neither caused Sam much bother. He’d at least be quiet on the drive back, and he deserved a little pain for the trouble he’s caused everyone else.

He leaned against the car, trying to catch his breath. “Thanks for your help, guys.”

Rufus waved it away. “Don’t worry about it. Just make sure the damn fool comes and picks up his car later.” Though there wasn’t a smile on his face, Rufus spoke with a fond tone. He turned and started heading back toward the building, calling over his shoulder; “You take care of that idiot for me!”

Sam waved goodbye before turning to Alfie. “So I take it Gabe’s done this kind of thing before?”

Alfie sighed, crossing his arms and looking at the ground for a moment. “Sadly, he has. He used to work here, actually. That’s how we know him.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Alfie joined Sam in leaning against the side of the car, getting himself comfortable. “Well, it was quite a few years ago, but yeah. His family was going through some really crappy stuff, and he was working his butt off so he’d be able to take care of his younger brother. I think. I’m a little fuzzy on the details. But they live with a woman named Missouri now, right?”

Sam didn’t trust his voice and only nodded.

“I think Gabe actually met her while he was working here. Missouri’s family is originally from here, and she and Gabriel somehow met up and became fast friends. The rest is history, as they say. After a while they both moved back up to wherever you met them and have been there ever since.”

“Huh.” Apparently Gabe has a more complicated past then he let on. Sam had no idea. Though he couldn’t really blame anyone for that. In the time that he and Gabe knew each other they hadn’t exactly shared their life stories. He desperately wanted to know more, but knew that it wasn’t his place to ask; especially someone he just met. Plus, if Gabriel really wanted Sam to know, he’d tell him. Eventually, anyway. Probably.

“Hey Alfie?” Sam waited till the other boy looked at him. “Why are you telling me all this?”

Alfie broke into a huge smile, clapping a hand onto Sam’s shoulder. “Because if you’re as important to Gabe as he tries not to let on, you should know. He cares for you, a lot, and whoever he ends up being around the most needs to know in order to take care of him the best way possible.”

If Sam’s eyebrows went any higher they just might fall off. He could only stare at Alfie with wide eyes for a moment, having no idea what to say to that. Sam turned away, biting his lip and feeling a blush heat his cheeks. They stood that way for a minute or two, before Sam gained his composure once more.

“Well, thanks again for your help, Alfie.”

“Of course! It’s no trouble. If you need anything else, you’ll know where to find me.” He gave a wink before heading on his merry way back to the bar.

Sam’s thoughts became a whirlwind the entire drive back to the house. Gabriel’s snores occasionally jutted through, but they only stirred the things in his head more. He was beginning to think he didn’t know Gabe as well as he thought, and that _bothered_ him.

He knew how kind Gabe could be; how selfless and trusting he is. And yes, occasionally Gabriel can be funny with that ridiculous smirk he has on all the time. Sam knew who Gabriel was; at least for the most part. But apparently there’s a whole other part of him that exists that has yet to show itself to Sam. What if it was something bad? He doubted it, based off of the fondness Alfie had used when talking about the past, but _still_. Sam didn’t know that past, and it slightly terrified him to think of what it could hold. What if Gabe had been hurt? It would certainly explain his reluctance to go after what he wanted.

Now that Sam thought about it, sometimes when he’d look at Gabriel there would be an almost haunted look to his eyes; but then he’d quickly smirk, pop a sucker into his mouth and come up with a ridiculous pun to move the conversation along, and acted as if nothing had happened, as if nothing ever bothered him.

All too soon they arrived back at the house, and Sam began the struggle of getting a half-awake and completely drunk Gabriel indoors. It took quite a while and multiple stumbles into the furniture before they made it to the bedroom Gabe had chosen on the first floor.

Sam unceremoniously and carelessly threw Gabriel onto the bed, having taken the time to draw back the covers. Gabe just sprawled out, murmuring into the pillows he cuddled close. Sam sighed, feeling utterly exhausted. He turned and made his way to the door, about to leave, when Gabriel called out to him.

“Sammy? Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

Sam’s heart squeezed and he felt his breath leave him at those words. Gabe’s voice was sluggish, but also full of what Sam had to place as _fear_. Was he scared to be alone? He couldn’t give in, though he wanted nothing more than to help Gabriel through the night. “Gabe, I can’t. You’re drunk, and I’m--”

“Please? I-I want you here. Please. Stay with me, Sam.”

He knew there was no way to ignore the request now, not after hearing his name sound so weighted in the empty air. Sam tried to ignore the lump in his throat, tried to swallow it down, but to no avail. He sighed and shucked off his shoes, knowing he was going to hate himself tomorrow for doing this. But how could he deny Gabriel? “Only for tonight,” he heard himself say, though he wasn’t sure if it was more for Gabriel or himself.

Not wanting to make the situation invite any more temptations than necessary, he left his jeans on. He crawled under the covers Gabe held aloft for him, and soon found himself becoming the sleeping Gabriel’s personal body pillow.

Sam tried not to hate himself, tried not to resent that he put himself in an almost unbearable situation in which he had everything he wanted literally in his arms, but couldn’t do anything about it for fear of taking advantage. So there he lay, still and with an arm around Gabriel, who cuddled close with his head on Sam’s chest. He closed his eyes, telling himself to at least try to fall asleep; though he had little hope it would work.

Sam had been sure that Gabriel had fallen asleep almost as soon as he was comfortable, but his quiet voice carried gentle words into the air between them.

“Thank you, Sammy.”

Sam felt himself release a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and he was able to give into the warm abyss of sleep soon afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologize for how long it took me to get this updated, it was an absolutely ridiculous amount of time. Hopefully that won't happen again, but I appear to have severe writer's block at times, and that's just something I can't control :P Just know that it's something that frustrates me to no end as well when I can't update my own freakin' story.


	23. Beachfront Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: there is a derogatory slur used in this chapter, so proceed with caution if that's something that makes you uncomfortable. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

“Cas, I’m pretty sure you don’t need that much sunscreen.”

The only response Dean gets is a frown as Cas continues to slather the white all over his skin.

“I mean this is like, what, the sixth time you’ve put on sunscreen since we got here-” He abruptly cuts off and twists to Gabriel, who is lounging underneath a beach umbrella. “When did we get here?”

“About an hour and a half ago.”

Dean turns back to Cas. “The sixth time since we got here an hour and a half ago.”

“I don’t know about you, Dean, but us Novaks tend to get sunburned quite easily.”

“It’s true! Missouri gets after me if I don’t cover my nose in sunscreen.” Gabe threw in, his eyes closed behind the shades he wore. His nose was covered in the stuff, making it stark white against the tan of his skin.

Dean turned his attention back to Cas. “Dude, I think you’re good. You’re still wearing your t-shirt, for God’s sake.”

“I prefer to be cautious. Not only is it easy for us to get sunburned, but it hurts quite a bit.” Cas lifted his eyes from his arms, his gaze dancing over Dean. “Like I’m sure your shoulders will later.”

Dean blinked before looking at his shoulders, which were surely turning a shade of pink. “Son of a bitch!” He snatched up the sunscreen, much to the amusement of Cas. 

Sam sauntered back to them, his trunks waterlogged and hugging his legs. “Are any of you guys going to get in the water?”

“What’re you talking about?” Dean grumbled. “Who do you think dunked your ass over 10 times?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t talking about you, Dean. Besides, you totally cheated at least half the time.” His gaze flicked between the Novak brothers, ultimately landing on Gabriel. “But neither of you have so much as dipped your toes in the water.”

Cas looked up at him with a shrug. “I don’t like the ocean water all that much.”

“And I’m here against my will!” Gabe said, which only made Sam grin wickedly.

Dean furrowed his brow and once again turned to Gabriel. “What’s that supposed to mean? You busted into our room this morning demanding that we leave the house.” He was still annoyed, but he could admit that it was a perfect time to go to the beach; it was sometime in the late morning, right before it got too hot and too crowded with people.

Gabriel had burst through the door that morning, making it slam against a wall, and startling the younger boys to waking as Gabe started to do a horrible rendition of ‘Good Morning’ from  _ Singin’ in the Rain _ . By himself. Doing his best (and failing) to cover all the separate parts. Sam stood back in the hallway laughing maniacally. Dean would have fallen off the bed if it weren’t for the tight hold that Cas’s arms had around his waist.

Gabe’s cheeks started to turn pink, and it wasn’t because of a sunburn. He mumbled something under his breath, which Dean couldn’t catch, but he thought he heard the word ‘blackmail’ in there somewhere. He would’ve questioned it were he not interrupted by his stomach grumbling.

“Hey, we have any more snacks in there?” he asked, nodding towards the cooler next to Gabriel. Who didn’t even bother looking at it.

“Nope, you ate the last of them maybe fifteen minutes ago.”

“Dean, how can you possibly be hungry?” Cas asked, with what looked like a mixture of awe and serious concern.

Dean shrugged. “I dunno, but it’s practically lunch time anyways. I was thinking we could go to a place on the boardwalk or something. You guys want to come with?” he asked, his gaze flicking between his younger brother and Gabriel.

Gabe snorted. “Yeah right, like I want to see the two of you making heart eyes at each other more than I have to.”

“It’s gross, right?” Sam agreed.

Dean rolled his eyes even as he felt his cheeks heat. “Well it’s not like anyone said you had to watch or anything,” he muttered.

“Kinda hard not to,” Sam replied as he crossed his arms, still standing tall. “You guys are  _ way _ too oblivious to the world when it comes to PDA.”

Dean turned to his boyfriend for help. “Cas, you gonna say something or what?”

He merely shrugged his shoulders in reply. “It’s not exactly something I can deny, Dean.”

That just made Dean blush harder.

It wasn’t long afterward that the small group split up; Sam and Gabe deciding to linger at the beach a little longer while Dean and Cas found some place to eat along the beachfront, all agreeing to meet back at the so-called cabin in an hour or two.

After several debates about the many different restaurants, they settled on a small, quaint, out of the way diner; offering things from salads to sandwiches, burgers to pizza, and all manner of desserts, though Dean was especially excited about the many different choices of pie. 

Both boys sighed in relief when they walked in to be greeted by a wall of cool air, glad to be out of the heat of the now blazing sun. On silent agreement after making their orders (a burger, fries, and milkshake for Dean; a chicken sandwich, fruit bowl, and water for Castiel), they made their way to a small, round table by the wide window, easily lifting themselves into the waist high chairs available. There were tables outside as well, but they were both a little tired from the heat of the sun and knew that the cool inside air would give them some relief for a while. 

The time waiting for their food was spent in easy comfort; teasing and taunting each other, or simply staring at each other with stupid smiles on their faces as they listened to the quiet music playing through the restaurant’s speakers. A waitress arrived with a smile and placed the piles of food in front of them, her smile growing at their wide eyes and hungry looks. As soon as she left them with a pleasant “Let me know if there’s anything else you need!” Dean dug into his burger like a starving man, closing his eyes and moaning at the burst of flavors across his tongue. 

He looked up at the huff of laughter from across the table. “What?” he asked, though it was a little hard to decipher with all the food in his mouth.

Cas just grinned a gummy grin at him, shaking his head before placing it in his hand and leaning his elbow on the table. “The sheer amount of food you can stuff in your face amazes me.”

If Dean wasn’t busy trying to grin around the food in his mouth, he’d be able to find an innuendo good enough to make the other boy blush twice as hard as himself right now.

He swallowed his mouthful before putting his food down and leaning across the table, a mischievous smirk lighting his face. “Come ‘ere,” he breathed, and closed his eyes with a hum when Cas met him halfway; but not before Cas chuckled and told him he was ridiculous. 

It was a simple kiss; filled mostly with laughter and comfort, but there was a strong undercurrent of adoration. It was a kiss that Dean would treasure for as long as he could.

“Mommy, what are those guys doing?”

Dean pulled away to glance out the window they sat next to; where a small boy pointed at them from where he sat at an outside table. The woman across from him turned in her seat to see where he pointed. When her eyes landed on them, taking in their held hands, how close they were to each other, she nearly choked on her drink, her eyes growing wide.

She sprang from her seat to cover her child’s eyes, the glare she threw at them making Dean forever grateful that looks couldn’t actually kill someone. The lady, still covering her son’s eyes, yanked him from his seat as she stormed to the window. “You should be ashamed of yourselves!” she shouted, loud enough to be heard through the window. “What must your mothers think? You must be breaking their hearts!” Dean couldn’t help it; he felt his stomach drop, his appetite leaving as guilt and shame took its place.

The woman looked like she was gearing up for another round of shouting, but Cas cut her off with an eye roll and a heavy sigh.

“Well ma’am,” he said, his voice calm, but still loud enough to echo through the glass. “My mother is dead, so I doubt she has anything to say regarding this matter. Secondly, I rather like the boy across from me, and it’s not my fault you have a problem with it. Despite you ruining our otherwise lovely afternoon, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day.”

The woman’s mouth worked like a fish out of water before she gathered herself enough to scowl at them. “You… you  _ faggots _ !” she practically screamed at them. Dean flinched at the slur, his stomach churning uncomfortably.

Cas glared right back at the woman before giving her the bird. She scoffed and dragged her poor son along behind her, ignoring his protests about leaving and his questions of what just happened.

Cas sighed before turning back to Dean. “Are you alright?”

Dean knew he wasn’t okay; that whole encounter, for whatever reason, shook him to his core. He didn’t know what to think. In spite of that, he managed to give his… he managed to give Cas a nod and a bleak smile.

Cas’ gaze became sharper as if he knew Dean were lying. “You’d tell me if you weren’t okay... right?” His tone was soft like he knew that if he pushed Dean in any way, he’d break in some way.

Dean couldn’t meet his eyes. “O-of course, Cas.” He swallowed before shakily getting to his feet, feeling sick. “‘Scuse me, I gotta go to the bathroom.”

He could feel the Cas’ eyes on him as he walked away. Dean knew he was nothing but concerned, but he really couldn’t face him like that right now. He couldn’t face what he was feeling; he couldn’t even name it. All Dean knew is that he didn’t like it. 

His breath was coming faster and faster, his heart racing in his chest. He reached to lock the bathroom door behind him with shaking hands, and when had that started? He leaned his weight on the sides of a sink, not even able to meet the eyes of his reflection in the mirror.

Maybe running away isn’t really the healthiest thing to do about it, but as he splashed cold water on his face, he began to feel better; like he was washing it away and down the drain. He knew he couldn’t ignore whatever it was he was feeling forever, but for now, it was nothing but a relief.


End file.
